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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28341945">You’re My Kind Of Present</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless'>LikeMeReckless</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, F/M, Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:42:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,171</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28341945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Betty finds herself going through rough patch after rough patch, Jughead steps in to help her cope. To keep Betty smiling, Jughead plans the Christmas that Betty deserves. Can the two handle the feelings that are cooked up next to their cookie platters? </p><p>This story was based on two prompt ideas from @TheSunandtheStars for Bughead Secret Santa that I combined into one story! It was a blast to write!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Bughead Secret Santa, Home for the HoliDale</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Love and thanks to Jandy for the beta editing and support!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51016287221/in/dateposted-public/">
    
  </a>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You know those Christmas movies you see on those cheesy channels, marketed towards people alone on their couch eating pints of Jen &amp; Berry’s under the glow of their apartment-sized Christmas tree? I know, I know… they are completely mind-numbing and unrealistic and a form of fluff entertainment that distracts us from the dropping temperatures outdoors and the piling credit card bills stuck in the corner of the kitchen counter. I felt the same way. You see, I’m more of a “Bah Humbug,” than an “Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings,” kind of guy, but this past Christmas I found myself a player in a real-life holiday romance film. Like the ghost of Christmas past, let me take you back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>November 4th</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>New York</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Harold’s?” Betty’s sweet voice sang into the receiver, traveling through the airways and into the eardrums of her best friend on the other end of the line. Her voice was music to his ears, a symphony orchestrated just for him, and him alone, but also not for him at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betts?” he asked curiously, clicking off the documentary he had been watching and closing the laptop screen in front of him, still blank and wordless after two hours of writer’s block. “Is everything all right? Harold’s is usually reserved for when one of us has to interact with our parents… or attend one of Archie’s shows.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s that bad, Jug,” she whispered out, shakily. “I need a pint of a hipster local brew and you. I need you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Twenty, okay?” He sighed, recognizing the quiver in her voice, and hung up immediately. Sniffing himself, he winced a bit and ran to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and giving himself a quick rubdown before deciding it was the shirt that was offensive, not his body. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Smells like garlic,” he said, cautiously sniffing again. “And egg salad. When did I last wash this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After brushing his teeth, Jughead ducked into his room and grabbed a garment from his closet that wouldn’t make his best friend even more upset than she already was. Best friend. Betty Cooper had been his best friend since their days in the sandbox. He remembered her determination to build a perfect castle as he gathered just the right rocks and stones to adorn her masterpiece. He remembered getting teased in middle school on Valentine’s Day when Reggie Mantle saw him hand Betty a homemade Valentine card, Betty glaring and ripping up the one from Reggie on the spot, kissing Jughead’s cheek and grabbing his hand to lead him to homeroom. He remembered hours in the Blue &amp; Gold office, watching her passionately rant about local injustices and exposing the truth, her alabaster cheeks pink from exasperation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Each of those moments, a snapshot in his mind, was a moment he wanted to lay his palm across her cheek and behind her head, allowing his fingers to be painted by her golden waves, and graze his rough, chapped lips over her shell-pink smooth ones. But that would never, could never happen. She was so far out of his league it wasn’t even remotely humorous. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>best friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> and if that’s all he ever got, he’d consider himself a lucky man. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbing his hat and jacket, he locked up his apartment before knocking on the carbon copy of his own, two doors down. A bundled up and red-eyed Betty opened her door and greeted him with a pout.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I come in and talk about it now or do you need some greasy food and an IPA in your system first?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“IPA,” Betty answered gruffly. “Food optional.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh boy,” Jughead quipped, hoping it wasn’t going to be one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>those</span>
  </em>
  <span> nights.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the pub, despite her protest, he ordered them food; burgers and a basket of fries to split. He even added on an order of mozzarella sticks, knowing that cheese was comfort food for his friend. Halfway through her beer, her shoulders sagged and her eyes lifted to meet his own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ripping up the straw wrapper with her finger, she blurted out, “So, I got fired today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t expecting that. Drama with Alice? Maybe. A spat with Veronica over not flying to an island for vacation? Also likely. Loss of job was something </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>had plenty of experience with, but not in regards to Betty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> “I know,” she flushed, looking away when he didn’t immediately respond. “It’s so embarrassing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s arm shot out, his hand ending across the wood of the table as his warm palm settled over her knuckles, squeezing gently. “Hey, no. No, Betty. It’s not embarrassing at all. It’s a reality of life.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her face was obscured behind a curtain of hair, no longer tied up in her tight, Alice Cooper-approved ponytail like it was in high school. Behind her curls, Jughead heard her sniffle and saw her hand come up to swipe at her eyes, a mixture of moisture and mascara left behind. In a spur of the moment decision, he was out of his seat and on her side of their booth, pulling her into his chest and hugging her tightly. He could feel the moisture from her eyes against his t-shirt and his heart crumbled a bit. Betty was the absolute hardest worker in that newsroom, working late hours, weekends, and holidays. He knew there had to be more to the story. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cooing words of comfort into her hair, he waited for her tears to subside before palming her jaw and tipping her face up to look at him. “What happened?” he asked softly, watching her bottom lip quiver.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know that local politician they had me following a beat on?” she asked softly as she grabbed her unused napkin and dabbed at her eyes, wrinkling up her face in a frown when the mascara coated the white fabric. “I found out his wife was cheating on him two weeks ago and I sat on it. I- I thought maybe I was wrong or maybe she would confess and they could work through it, you know? He always seemed so happy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was Betty, Jughead thought to himself. An eternal optimist.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, my editor was looking for the piece I copy-edited for Bill on the protests downtown and she found the photos in my desk. I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>stupid to keep them there. After berating me for withholding a huge break in front of everyone, she fired me on the spot and released the story online this afternoon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty,” Jughead sighed. “I’m sorry. What you did was noble and honest. When did journalism become about cheating and ruining private lives and less about global issues anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty cheeked a small smile at that, a discussion they had many times before, before sucking in a heavy breath and grabbing his hands in her own. “I’m afraid to tell Alice,” Betty confessed, honestly. “She’s- well you know how she is. And how am I going to pay my rent? Fran said she would tell every paper in New York I was a bleeding heart who couldn’t be trusted. I’ll never get hired anywhere now. My career is over and it had barely begun.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead sat back against the booth and sighed, sinking down into the squeaky, sticky leather. “That makes two of us,” he lamented. “I am barely getting freelance work and my next novel is about two-hundred-thirty blank pages right now. I’m living off what’s left of the last one, but I’m afraid it’s not much.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As they both sat back, watching the mounted TV screen in front of them ironically blast the cheating scandal story in question, Betty skimmed her hand along the vinyl and laced her fingers with those of her best friend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are we gonna do, Jug?” she asked, defeated, earning a shrug from him in return.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Betts,” he replied, honestly. “But whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. Wanna head home?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Netflix and popcorn?” she asked, hopefully.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll even sweat it out under that two-hundred-pound chunky knit blanket you love so much.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Piggyback?” Betty pressed, biting her lip and giggling, knowing he’d deny her nothing tonight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Jughead said, dragging out the word and pretending to be displeased. “But I’m not running this time. Last time we utilized the old ‘Vamoose Caboose’, I almost lost my footing and sent us both into that hot dog vendor.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>December 1st</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Riverdale</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They stood on the curb in front of the dilapidated building, staring up at the old brick and broken glass windows on the storefront before them, boxes in arm and bags hoisted on their shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So this is it,” Jughead said apologetically, gesturing towards the property that straddled the north and south property line of Riverdale. The building was a small, one-bedroom apartment settled on top of an empty storefront below, unused for many years based on the state of its upkeep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Remind me again how we got to a point, at twenty-four, where this is our best option for a living space,” Betty mumbled, staring in horror at the building before her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We can always move back in with Alice and FP?” Jughead teased, laughing at the grimace that Betty shot him at the mere suggestion. “This is only temporary and won’t eat up our savings. C’mon, let’s go see how bad it really is. Sweet Pea gave me a great deal on this place. Apparently, no one wanted to rent or purchase the property and it’s been weighing his cousin down for a few years now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This place?” Betty grinned, feigning shock. “I can’t imagine why.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Chuckling back, Jughead pulled out the keys Sweet Pea had given him just an hour ago. Letting themselves into their new apartment, Betty quietly stepped forward, inspecting the place with an investigative eye. The kitchen was galley style, but not terribly narrow and the living room had space for her old couch they had loaded onto the moving truck, a selfish purchase from when she had a steady paycheck. She ran her finger along the counter and then rubbed them together, grimacing at the layer of dust that coated the surfaces. Apparently, Sweet Pea hadn’t sprung for a cleaning crew.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead stood back at the door nervously. He knew this was a gamble, renting a one-bedroom apartment for them to share back in Riverdale, but they had run out of options, and money. He knew he’d give Betty the bedroom so the living room he glanced around now and Betty’s couch would be his sleeping quarters. Maybe she’d share half the closet with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, when I get to the bedroom will there be a stripper pole or a family of rats waiting to greet me?” she teased, winding up back at his side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m rooting for the stripper pole,” Jughead grinned. “That could come in handy… for like workouts, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Betty hummed, raising an eyebrow at him before pushing forward into the bedroom. The room itself was a decent size, with two double bed frames and two dressers already assembled and inside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you buy these?” Betty asked, eyeing the wooden pieces.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead shook his head and finally placed down the heavy bag he held, his shoulder and arm numb, figuring he’d deal with dusting it off later. “They must have just been there from when his cousin lived here. I think he was the guardian of his kid brother.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Betty said, dropping her bag to the floor as well. “I guess they could come in handy. I was wondering how we were going to fit both our bed frames into one room.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead cocked his head to the side and chortled a bit at the thought. “Yeah, no. I didn’t even bring mine. It was like seventh-hand, not even second, and I figured I’d sleep on the living room couch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shuffling across the dusty floor, Betty smacked him directly on the chest and creased her brow in anger. “Jughead Jones, you did not rent a… a… this place, so I would have somewhere to sleep and you’d be couch crashing! Absolutely not!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then what do you suggest, Betty? This was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> all we can manage right now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I suggest that we put down blankets on these tonight and tomorrow we get new twin mattresses and bedding. We should each have a bed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, studying the shapes his footprints made in the dust.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Betty asked, sensing his awkward demeanor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Jughead muffled out, shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Catching his eye, Betty squared her jaw and pressed him. “Jug.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Won’t it be awkward when you… if you… what if you have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>special </span>
  </em>
  <span>guest?” he blurted out using air quotes as he spoke the word special.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty peered at him carefully, her look more like a glare than anything else. “Are you… are you asking if I’d feel awkward </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleeping</span>
  </em>
  <span> with someone in our shared bedroom? What do you think I am? A madame? Sure, we could use the money, but…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s eyes went wide and he thrust his hands out, grabbing her shoulders. “No! No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that. Just what if you do meet someone?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty’s scoffed and blushed a bit at the implication. “I haven’t had a date in almost two years, Jug, and I was living in Manhattan. We’re in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Riverdale</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty glanced over at the bed situation again and frowned. She definitely wanted new mattresses first thing in the morning. With one final sigh, she headed to the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Betty?” Jughead called stopping her in her tracks. “New York City guys are dumb. You’re beautiful.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty paused a moment, searching his face for a smirk, but only found a seriousness that he reserved for profound truths, usually confessed in early morning hours after a night’s worth of talking. She bowed her eyes, bashfully, holding onto the door jam and toeing at a loose nail in a floorboard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Juggie,” she breathed, hoping his name would suffice for now. “Come on. Let’s get the boxes. I need the cleaning supplies and first aid kit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you normally use those things in tandem?” he asked, grateful for the distraction from their awkward moment seconds earlier.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not generally,” she remarked sadly. “But I’m afraid while cleaning one of us may trip on a nail, old bottle cap, or perhaps discarded pocketknife and I’d rather not get Tetanus.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…..</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead spent the next hour carrying box after box up the two flights of stairs to their apartment. On one particular pass through the living room, he dropped the box of towels, grabbing his chest in fright as he came face-to-face with Betty, suited up in elbow length, yellow rubber gloves, and a full-face vapor cover that exterminators and painters wore to block out fumes and mold. A toolbelt was secured around her waist, equipped with disinfecting wipes, glass cleaner, paper towels, and a feather duster.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you dressed like a giant fly that ate a handy-man?” he asked, grateful the box he had lost control over was only unbreakables.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lifting the shield over her face and taking out her earphones, Betty took a large gulp of air and shook her hair free from the bandana. “I was vacuuming before I started a scrub down of this place and to be honest, I wasn’t sure what was in the air. I figured this was the safest way to attack the situation.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead just stared at her. Every time he thought Betty Cooper couldn’t surprise him she found a new way to do so.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you even have one of those?” he asked, shaking his head and picking up the box he had dropped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you?” she teased. “When the apocalypse hits, I’ll be prepared, Jug. Plus, I use a lot of spray adhesive when I craft and that shit will kill you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead just chuckled and delivered the box to the bathroom. While his idea of packing was to toss things in a box before they left, Betty had stopped him and presented him with a two-week, pre-moving plan. They had packed room by room, mixing her towels and his, their pots-and-pans, and even their book collections. Only their clothes and personal items remained separate. It was efficient, but Jughead had found it quite intimate to see his ratty, navy towels mixed with the plush, eucalyptus colored ones from her own bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Back in the living room, Betty remained maskless, spraying and wiping down the windows, the sun now breaking through as the grime was washed away. That moment, sun shining in over her face, lighting up the gold flecks in her hair, he really hoped it was a metaphor for their futures; the darkness wiped away and only sunshine up ahead. If anyone deserved that, it was Betty. They had more than their fair share of darkness. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had one box left to grab from the truck, but he found himself glued to the entryway between rooms, watching her sing as she scrubbed, mask gone, but headphones wedged back into her ears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>The tree's wrapped up in lights</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And you're close by my side</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You're all I need, it's true</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The greatest gift is you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The fire's warm and bright</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So we'll stay in tonight</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You're all I need, it's true</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The greatest gift is you</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You bring joy to my soul</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>With your fingers in the holes of my sweater</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You bring warmth to the cold</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Always find a way to make me feel better”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her words pulled on his heartstrings and tickled their way down his spine as he fiddled with the hole in the hem of his own t-shirt. He felt his feet urging him forward, like two south pole magnets being drawn towards her true north. With a bite of his lip and the cracking of his knuckles, he pushed the moment away, quietly backing himself towards the door and down to the truck to secure the last box. He berated himself the whole way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Jughead knew that being roommates with Betty would be difficult. Not difficult in the sense that she’d want him to clean up the clothes he usually left </span>
  <em>
    <span>next </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the hamper rather than </span>
  <em>
    <span>in </span>
  </em>
  <span>the hamper when he showered, or that she’d rather him dry and put away dishes than stack them on the dry rack like blocks in a risky game of Jenga, but difficult in the sense that he was drawn to her enough his whole life without sharing the same abode. He had recited a mantra the entire drive from the city to Riverdale. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“This is for Betty, not because it makes you happy, but because she deserves it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed at that and chastised himself. Who was he kidding? She deserved a lot more than this rundown shoebox he’d rented and a roommate who fell asleep wondering how soft her skin was. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>guy and Betty needed him to be a good guy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing up at the window, he could see her scrubbing at a spot that just wouldn’t come clean, frowning as she did so, biting her lip in complete concentration. He wanted to bite that lip himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope,” he said aloud, closing the truck as he grabbed the last box. “This is a slippery slope, Forsythe. You need a distraction. A buffer… and to stop talking to yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Putting the box down before himself, he pulled his cell from his pocket and pulled up his second most used contact after Betty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Arch,” he said gratefully when he answered. “Betty and I just got into town and I could use some help with the heavier pieces. There’s pizza and beer in it for you. No! Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>bring Ronnie. Not until we have this place set up. She will literally kill me for bringing Betty here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…..</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Back upstairs, Jughead flopped down on a crate, sweaty and exhausted. He didn’t mind manual labor; it was honest and it afforded him time to think. But the thought that all of their furniture still remained two floors below was daunting to consider. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, willing his body to cool itself down. A chill spread down the side of his cheek and he looked up to find Betty pressing a cool glass of water to the side of his face and he groaned at her in thanks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not ice cold,” she apologized. “But it’s cool enough. I can’t believe it’s still this warm in December.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s global warming for you,” Jughead joked, rolling his neck to soothe the sore muscles there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me,” Betty murmured softly, pushing his hands away before he could protest and pressing her thumbs into the base of his neck on either side of his spine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betts, no. I’m all sweaty. I-” he protested, leaning forward a bit to avoid her touch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“S’okay,” Betty reassured him, pulling him back and resuming the light pressure before digging in a bit deeper. “If you’re going to suffer through living with me there should be perks, don’t you think, Juggie?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He mumbled out a response, incoherent in its formation, as Betty’s hands smoothed over his shoulders and dug into the muscles there. “Besides, you carried all of my stuff up here. I think that type of chivalry deserves to be rewarded.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A dozen images of how he’d like to be rewarded popped into his head and he pushed himself off the crate as fast as possible. “Archie!” he sputtered out, nervously. “I called Archie! He’s coming to help carry furniture.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty smiled, tight-lipped, nodding at him as if he were insane. “That’s good, Jug. Furniture is heavy.” She paused a moment, examining her hands which were now twisting around each other before she spoke. “Do you think Arch told anyone about us moving here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She stared at her hands, the floor, the spot on the wall where the plaster was cracked. His heart sank a bit and he willed himself not to scrunch up his chin. He always did that when he was sad, or at least that’s what she told him. She would know her words had gotten to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Relax, Betts,” he assured her. “I guarantee Archie hasn’t gone galavanting all over Riverdale that you’re shacking up with a Jones. Your secret is safe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She seemed to realize instantaneously that he didn’t understand her motives for questioning him at all. In one giant step, eyes wide yet soft, Betty stood before him, brushing her palm against his cheek, leaving little space between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jug, no,” Betty rushed out quickly, begging him to understand. “This has nothing to do with you. I swear it. I’d wear a t-shirt around town that said, “I heart my roomie,” with your face plastered on the front. It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m worried about knowing I’m in town again. It’s… it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>person.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead leaned into her touch. He was blissfully aware that their bodies had less than a foot of space between them and that she was so close he could smell the vanilla body spray she used, probably after sweating in this hotbox apartment. It took him a moment to remember she was speaking and he considered her words carefully before his face softened and his head tilted, pulling her palm from his cheek to hold her hand between his own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty,” he whispered, sympathetic. “You haven’t told Alice what happened yet, have you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a scrunch of her face and a shrug of her shoulders, Betty pulled back a bit in an attempt to escape his gaze and this conversation. He grabbed hold of her shoulders to draw her back in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betts, Riverdale is a small town and unless you want us to buy groceries at Vic’s Discount down the block where the expiration dates are scratched off the sides and the packages say Chario’s and Campbull’s, we are going to run into her at some point.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” she clapped back quickly, huffing out a breath that blew a stray strand of hair up over her face. “I know! I know! I- I’ve tried, Jug. I really have. It’s just every time I work up the nerve to explain it to her I just hear the series of insults and barraging remarks, that I know will inevitably spill out of her like lava, reverberating around in my head!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a while, he just let her rant. He knew every word she said was true and that while she was a grown woman in every other way, she was emotionally still a frightened girl, afraid of making a mistake when it came to her mother. Alice, whether near or far, still had that effect on her. In every other aspect of her life, Betty was alit with confidence, a force to be reckoned with. Alice always had the power to draw her back into a self-conscious state.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead pulled Betty into a tight hug against his chest and rested her head under his chin, a place she had grown quite accustomed to through the years. His voice, low and soft, wrapped around her as he spoke. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t lie to you. When you tell her, it will be awful. Her first instinct will be to put you down, but you can’t let her. You’re a grown woman now, Betty. You can’t let her deteriorate you or have that same control over your emotions.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I can’t help it?” she asked quietly, looking up at him through her wet lashes. “What if I’m not strong enough this time? I mean, she’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>mom</span>
  </em>
  <span>. ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead remained calm and quiet, but inside he was an inferno. He cursed Alice Cooper for being able to affect her daughter in such a way. She didn’t deserve someone so good when she had a soul as black as coal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can,” he assured her, using his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. “You have the softest, yet strongest heart I know, Cooper. It deserves to be free of the guilt you’re always carrying around. You are more than enough.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jug,” Betty choked out. “How can you be so sure?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead’s eyes searched her own, his hand grazing her cheek and his other hand returned the rogue blonde hair that had flopped over her face back to its rightful resting spot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you,” he said simply, as if that explained it all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was at that moment they both seemed to realize exactly how close they were and the cherished way in which he held her face. Her hands, idle at his waist, slid up his chest in a slow crawl. Jughead sucked in a breath at the contact and foraged her features for a clue of her motives. He thought that she had to be able to feel his heart pounding through his t-shirt from the rapid thud it was creating inside his body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his lips to speak as the old, rusted hinges of their slightly ajar front door squeaked open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, guys!” Archie beamed, excited to have his two oldest friends back in town. “I’m-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Archie paused, looking between the two, who seemed to also realize at that moment exactly how their body language probably appeared to their friend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...interrupting something?” Archie finished, looking relieved and hopeful. “Jug! You finally-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The truck, Arch,” Jughead interrupted. “Let’s head down and grab that furniture before it gets dark. I promised you a meat lover’s supreme pie all to yourself when it’s empty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a goofy, awkward grin, Jughead removed his hands from Betty’s face and all but ran out the front door, Archie shaking his head and trailing behind him. Betty stood immobile, watching his retreating form and questioning if perhaps all this time her affections hadn’t been as one-sided as she had thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away. “Get back to cleaning, Betty,” she muttered to herself. “You won’t blink your eyes and find this mess was all a dream.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…..</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Down at the truck, Jughead avoided Archie’s face at all costs for as long as he could. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, I think we should start with the couch and coffee table so we will at least have somewhere to eat pizza when it comes. Then we can come back for the lamps, bar stools, and bedroom pieces.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bending at the waist, Jughead slid the couch from the back of the truck towards the front, Archie gripping it by the sides to help him lift it down. When the couch was completely lowered, Jughead hopped down from the truck and was immediately accosted with a hand to his chest, pushing him down onto the sofa.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Arch, what the hell, man?” he yelled, looking up at his Archie who stood over him, hands propped across his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, Jug,” he said directly. “You aren’t moving until you tell me what the hell that was upstairs just now. You and Betty looked like you were two seconds away from smooshing faces and swallowing tonsils.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Swallowing quickly at the mere image in his head, Jughead flushed and glanced up at the window where Betty stood before, no doubt cleaning and singing somewhere else in the house presently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was nothing,” Jughead answered, defensively. “Betty was upset that Alice might find out she’s back in town. I was just reassuring her she could handle her wrath. We’re still just friends.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Archie pursed his lips and nodded sarcastically. “Friend, huh? I often reassure Reggie with gentle face caresses and goo-goo eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> normal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Jughead pushed himself up and past his moving partner, grabbing one end of the couch and looking at the other side expectantly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just promise that you and Ron will stay quiet about Betty being here?” Jughead huffed, heaving the couch up from his side. “Betty will die if Alice knows she’s here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, she knows,” a cold voice called from behind the truck, causing Jughead to stumble forward, the couch weight falling towards Archie and knocking him flat to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Al- Mrs. Cooper,” Jughead said nervously. “It’s ni- merry… um, hello.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Forsythe,” Alice said cooly, her frozen exterior as icy as always. “Still quite the pillar of intelligence I see. Now, be a good boy and go get my daughter. I’m not going into that hypodermic needle of a building and risking a roof collapse or hepatitis.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a silent, awkward nod, Jughead ducked into the building and ascended the stairs, mumbling the whole while. “...pillar of intelligence. Hepatitis…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty was leaning against the kitchen counter when he made it to their door, taking a long swig from a bottle of water. Thank goodness she had the forethought to purchase some because he doubted their own tap was uncontaminated.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Betts?” he said, voice a bit more high-pitched than he’d have liked. “You remember that thing you were afraid of and I told you not to worry about?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Capping the bottle, Betty pushed up off the counter and stared at him bug-eyed. “Juggie, does my mom know I’m in town?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly and tossed an apologetic look her way. “She </span>
  <em>
    <span>may </span>
  </em>
  <span>be out front… right now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty ducked to the floor like a grenade had just been thrown through the window, placing her back against the kitchen island and closing her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She can’t see you, Betts,” Jughead laughed. “But you and I both know that if you don’t go down there, she will be up here and dragging you out by your ponytail in two minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just too much,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I think this is the lowest point I’ve ever hit and my mother uses failure to fuel her soul.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead stuck out an arm and tossed her a knowing look, half-smiling when she groaned and grabbed his hand, letting him pull her to her feet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Be my buffer?” Betty asked hopefully, frowning at her best friend turned roommate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When am I not?” Jughead chuckled before pushing her out the front door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they made their way out front, Alice was talking to Archie, quite warmly. She hadn’t been a fan of his in their youth when she was convinced he and Betty were dating, despite Betty’s many explanations that Archie was dating Veronica. She was convinced he’d get her pregnant and ruin her life. Now that he and Veronica were engaged and he was running his own business, Alice seemed to have taken more of a positive outlook on his character. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hearing the shuffle of her sneakers, Alice turned and wrinkled up her lip, taking in Betty’s disheveled appearance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Elizabeth,” she snapped. “I understand you are at this half-way house but surely you don’t need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> the part of a troubled youth as well.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to see you, too, Mom,” Betty grinned. “Always great to get an honest opinion on my appearance.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alice barked out a harsh laugh. “You want to talk about honesty? My own daughter didn’t tell me she was back in town. I had to hear it from Pop, who heard from Josie, who heard from Cheryl, who heard from Veronica. I’m the last to know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty, with her built-in guilt complex, flushed and looked upset for a moment. She knew not telling Alice the truth would be worse so she took a deep breath and grounded herself, preparing for the worst.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Mom-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I understand you </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> have had a bleeding heart and a soft spot for the Jones boy, but why are you here, doing God knows what with him, in that run-down building? Is this a charity venture?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty’s head snapped up and she looked from her mother to Jughead, and back. Alice knew she was in town, but not that she had moved back. A small miracle. She would be a bit less pressed if Betty told her that bit herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, actually Mom-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s my fault, Mrs. Cooper,” Jughead interrupted. I lost my job and Betty was worried about me. She came to town to help me move and took some time off while I adjust to my situation. I’m going through a bout of depression.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Alice said, looking a bit more warmly on him at the moment. “I can understand that. My Elizabeth has always been sensitive to people's needs, especially yours.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty looked up at Jughead with such great gratitude in her eyes. She knew that this wasn’t easy for him, since her mother already looked at him like a miscreant, but was grateful he did it for her anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Elizabeth,” Alice said expectantly. “I suppose you should be coming with me then. while I understand you’re here to help, there’s no need for you to sleep in a dump like this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alice turned to leave and Betty’s voice drew her back around. “Actually mom, I’m going to stay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Alice didn’t look surprised at all. “I suppose it’s for the best,” she sneered. “Someone should be watching to make sure Forsythe doesn’t fall into an alcoholic state like his father. “</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a final, tight-lipped smile, Alice said, “The eighth is the feast of the immaculate conception. I’ll expect you at church and then dinner at our house. Archie, you and Veronica should come as well. And Jughead, I’m sure you could use a hot meal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was no room for an argument as Alice left without another moment’s pause, climbing into her car and driving away without looking back. The moment her car was out of sight, Betty turned and smacked Jughead on his bicep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What is wrong with you?” Betty asked. “Are you a glutton for punishment? A masochist? Do you have a death wish? What was that about?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” Jughead stammered out, confused himself. “She just looked so smug and predatory and my machismo instincts caved in and yelled, ‘Save Betty!’ and I said the first thing that came to my mind!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty’s shoulders sagged and she smiled affectionately, leaving in to place a quick kiss on his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “I’m sorry my first instinct was to slap you, but my mother makes me crazy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently,” he mumbled, rubbing at his arm as Archie looked between them and laughed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Betty asked, watching Archie with amusement. “You know you and V don’t actually have to come to dinner, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Oh, no,” Archie grinned. “Alice is going to eat Jug alive for dragging you here. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…..</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They were sore, exhausted, and full-bellied after eating too many slices from the meat-lovers pie once all their furniture was carried up from the truck. While the boys had moved the heavy pieces, Betty began to unpack and set up, making sure to grab sheets from the linens box for their beds. Both of their sheets were for full beds so they hung off the twins like parachutes, flipping down the sides. Their comforters were giant as well.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We can go grab some new sheets tomorrow,” Betty sighed. She was warm, their heat unable to be regulated by the unit itself. They basically had two choices; on or off. She was considering off. Her flannel penguin PJs were making her sweat, but she didn’t have time to unpack all her clothes and these were available. Jughead looked a bit cooler, wearing flannel pants and a white tank top. Betty couldn’t help but admire his arms just a bit as they stared at the messy beds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, left or right?” he asked teasingly, trying to make light of the situation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“By the wall,” Betty grinned. “I like feeling all boxed in and safe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, so you’re usually the little spoon then?” he teased. “Good to know. Well, goodnight, roomie.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Night, Jug,” Betty whispered back, feeling a bit awkward as they climbed into their respective beds and turned off the lamp she had placed on the corner dresser.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As they settled in, Jughead began to toss and turn, the small bed uncomfortable on his tall frame. Each roll squeaked the old rusted bed frame hinges and springs, creating loud screeches in the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jughead,” Betty groaned after ten minutes of the bed crying. “Could you please stop rolling? I’m afraid you’re going to summon every coyote in New York State with that sound.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry! But this isn’t the easiest thing to sleep on. It’s small and the mattress is made out of cement. And this is coming from a guy who slept in a closet at Riverdale a high, so…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty sighed and Jughead forced himself to lay still, the springs digging into his spine in his current position. Breathing slowly, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. After ten minutes, Betty could hear light snores coming from the bed next to hers. Settling further into her pillow, Betty closed her eyes and began to drift off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>BAM! A crash and a breaking of glass woke her from a sound sleep. Betty jolted from her bed and reached for the lamp, only to find it missing. Darting across the room she flung in the overhead light and found Jughead groaning on the floor, pushing himself to a seated position.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Juggie!” Betty yelled, rushing to his side. “Are you alright? Are you cut? What the hell happened?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pushed himself back up onto the bed while Betty compulsively examined his arms and back for glass but luckily he seemed to be fine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened is I’m too tall for this bed and used to more space. Sorry I killed your lamp.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty watched as Jughead rolled his neck and groaned. He was exhausted from the day’s strenuous efforts and Betty could see the exhaustion in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get up,” she said abruptly, tugging on his arm. “Up, Jug.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Confused, but too tired to argue, Jughead ambled off the bed and over to the side of the room as he watched Betty shove the two twin beds together, throwing his comforter over them both like a sheet and leaving hers to toss over the top. She climbed in and under the covers before holding it open for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get in.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? I.. you… what?” Jughead stammered, flapping his arm back and forth between himself and the bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You need sleep. I need sleep. Tomorrow, we will put my bed together because my mattress isn’t made of a thousand rusty nails, and then at some point after that, we can figure out a long term situation. Sound good?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead just nodded, hit the light, tentatively crossed the room and climbed between the blankets. For a moment they both laid still, staring up at the ceiling quietly. Betty moved first rolling to her left and Jughead to his right.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Night, Betts.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Night, Juggie.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>December 8th </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A week had passed since their move-in date and the apartment was already beginning to look like a home. Their books had mingled on the living room bookshelf and Jughead’s old, flannel blanket had taken up residence on Betty’s gray couch next to her coral and yellow throw pillows. The decor was slightly incompatible, but neither seemed to mind as they settled into an easy routine. Betty knew that living with Jughead would make her happy, but she didn’t realize how easy and calming it would feel. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After their first night together, she had woken up sprawled across him, one hand on his chest and his arm draped over her back. It made Betty warm in ways she did not want to think about. Betty had extricated herself from his grasp and headed to the bathroom while he had pretended to be asleep, but she knew better. She had been friends with Jughead since they were children and in love with him since she was eighteen, probably earlier if she had truly stopped moving or engaging in school activities for even a moment and considered having a boyfriend. Only Veronica knew her deeply guarded secret, and only then because she had finally broken Betty down on her twenty-first birthday after an excessive amount of tequila consumption. Since their first night, neither of them had brought up the sleeping arrangements again. What did that mean? Did he enjoy the intimacy as well?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Focus, Betty,” she told herself as she fiddled with the festive red ribbon she had curled and woven into a giant bow. Attaching it to the bottle of wine she planned to bring to her mother’s house after church, along with a platter of cookies she had prepared. She pulled at the end of one curl, watching it spring back up to her satisfaction and smiled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does this outfit say, ‘I’m sorry I’m holding your daughter hostage in my dungeon, but I tried to be presentable for church even though I’m an atheist and may burst into flames at any moment?’”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty turned and found Jughead fully dressed. He wore black pants, not suit or dress pants, but unwrinkled and clean, with a deep green shirt, cuffs rolled up to mid-arm. His trademark suspenders were upon his shoulders correctly. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>trying not to make Alice any angrier than she already was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead cleared his throat and his amused eyes met Betty’s own embarrassed orbs. She had been staring, looking him over from head to toe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look really handsome, Jug,” Betty said sweetly, gathering her composure and hoping her skin wasn’t as pink as her dress. “You definitely don’t look like a dungeon dweller tonight. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t have to come to church though. You can just meet us for dinner. I know it’s not your thing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it even your thing anymore?” he asked, curiously. The entire time they had lived in the city, he couldn’t remember Betty ever going to church at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty tilted her head and shrugged a bit. “It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> my thing? It’s more of a family thing. It’s what we always did when I was a kid, and I guess with Polly and the kids in Nebraska and my Dad gone, I kind of just do it for my mom. It’s a holiday tradition.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead searched Betty’s face and turned down one side of his lip at the sadness he found there. While his family had always been a wanna-be episode of the Jerry Springer show, Betty knew what it was like to have normalcy, for at least a little while. In her youth, when her sister was home and before Alice had gone off the rails, the holidays were probably a warm, family time she looked forward to.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a better daughter than she deserves, Betts,” he gushed out quickly. “Tell me about your holidays. We didn’t have too many Jones traditions. What memories make you the happiest?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty bit at her lip and sat back on a stool, leaning against the kitchen counter. “My mother was always uptight and image-driven, so our Christmases had to look like the cover of a greeting card. But it wasn’t all bad. Every year we would go get a tree together and my dad would sing these operatic Christmas songs and my mom would complain, but soon she’d be singing as well. We’d build gingerbread houses, always perfect ones of course, but the smell in the smell of the cookies and the spices were just so warm.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Was that your favorite?” Jughead asked, feeling content himself with the soft smile on her lips. “Were the houses the best part?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty shook her head and smiled wider, her eyes far-off somewhere. “Polly was always a bit more disinterested than I was in family traditions and stories. She would stay for a bit and then be off to her room, doing her own thing. I swear at ten she was already a teenager.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty chuckled a bit at the thought and unconsciously reached out and began to fix his collar as she spoke. “After the tree was up, my dad would always pull out this super old angel. She was a family hand-me-down, made by this old Christmas company that used to have a factory here in New York. We’d sing this ridiculous song about a fairy on a Christmas tree and dance, and when it was all done he’d lift me up so I could put her on top. She always seemed ethereal to me, you know? And when that was done I felt like Christmas could start.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had finished fixing his collar midway through the story, but her hands and continued to play with the tips, falling then to tug at the suspenders at his shoulders. “That probably all sounds girly and silly now, doesn't it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not at all,” he smiled softly. “I bet it was really special.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think about that a lot,” Betty sighed, looking down at the clip on his suspender. “Was my dad awful then, too? Was my mom unhappy? Was Polly spiraling? Maybe I was just lost in this fantasy of sugar plums and sparkles and completely unaware that the whole world was imploding beneath my feet. But still, I can’t help but smile when I think of that angel. You’ll see her tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t wait to see this ephemeral spirit,” he teased, pulling back from her a bit. “But we better go before we are late and your mother, church or not, eviscerates me publicly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Betty grimaced. “I’m hoping that after being in church she will take it easy on you, but this is Alice Cooper we’re talking about.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a big boy, Betty,” he assured her. “I can take whatever she dishes out. Let’s just get through dinner and when we get home I can eat my feelings by devouring the extra cookies you didn’t put on that platter.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Betty shrugged on her jacket, she raised an eyebrow pointedly at him. “Who says I saved some for you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Matching her look, he put on his own jacket, laughing when she finally cracked under his teasing gaze. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re hidden in the microwave,” Betty giggled. “I didn't want you to eat them all before we even left.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahhh,” Jughead grinned. “Who needs a tree angel when I live with an actual angel who bakes. Now, let’s go. Maybe there will even be time to light a candle before it starts. You can light one for me because your mom is going to be praying for my demise, that we can count on.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…..</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mass had come and gone quite uneventfully. They had made it in time and were relieved to find Veronica and Archie already in the pew by Alice, serving as the perfect buffer. They had just arrived back at the Cooper house and Alice was in the kitchen with Betty, finishing up heating the meal she had pre-cooked earlier. Jughead sat on a living room chair, while Veronica and Archie shared the couch, nervously chomping down on the cheeses and almonds Alice had unwrapped and placed out when they walked in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nervous much?” Veronica teased. “Archie told me what you did for Betty...with her mom I mean. You are either very brave or very stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going with stupid,” Archie interjected.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead ignored them and continued to snack.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Archiekins,” Veronica grinned. “Men do often do stupid things when they are in love.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead whipped his head up and glanced nervously into the kitchen before shooting a warning glare Veronica’s way. She simply shrugged and feigned complete innocence as he stood and made his way over to the Christmas tree, crossing his arms over his chest as he took a peek at Betty’s Christmas angel. To Jughead it just appeared to be like any other porcelain-headed, gold glitter dress-wearing, run of the mill angel. But then again, one year Gladys had fashioned a star for their tree out of tinsel and cut up Miller Lite cans, so who was he to judge antique angels anyway.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t she pretty,” Betty gushed, stepping up behind him and taking Jughead by surprise by wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her head on his shoulder. “I named her Gloria, as in, </span>
  <em>
    <span>in excelsis deo</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that gibberish...or…” he teased as Betty squeezed his sides playfully.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dinner,” Alice’s stern voice cut through the room. “Come to the table.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty dropped her arms and grabbed Jughead’s hand, pulling him to the table and their friends watched, amused. Alice wasn’t unaware of her daughter’s level of comfort around Jughead either. Her expression was much more calculated and pointed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The table was set with china and wine glasses, a bottle of red and the bottle of white Betty had bought placed out on the table. Alice had made manicotti, with meatballs and sausage as sides along with a large salad and fresh bread. Jughead was starving, having skipped lunch to work on his latest novel, something not commonplace for him. He waited patiently as Alice served them each, placing three of the deliciously cheesy pasta roll-ups on Archie, Veronica, Betty’s plates before dropping four on his, then serving herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s plenty more, Jughead,” Alice sang sweetly as she dug her fork in and took a bite of her dish. “I know you’re no stranger to hunger pangs, but while you’re here you might as well have a good meal and fill your belly. It must be hard to eat well without an income.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom…” Betty warned her, tossing a glare across the table as Veronica and Archie sat wide-eyed and open-mouthed, catching flies as the scene unfolded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Elizabeth. Relax,” Alice laughed. “I’m sure you’re cooking for him as well. You always did like a good project. In retrospect, perhaps we should have named you Judy, after Jude.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty’s jaw tightened and, if possible, Veronica’s jaw dropped further, the boy's clueless ad to Alice’s latest form of slander. As if she realized it, she went on to further explain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“As in Saint Jude,” Alice explained, looking from Archie to Jughead. “The patron saint of lost causes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mother-” Betty burst out, but Jughead gripped her thigh quickly, stopping her mid-rant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right, Mrs. Cooper,” he said, unbothered. He knew Alice’s issues with him were more about her failed relationship with his father than anything else. That and control. When Alice wasn’t in control she lashed out wildly. Betty not being truthful about being in town had offended her and this was her penance. “Betty takes great care of me. I’m lucky she can cook or I’d probably starve.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to formulate a quip for his response, the meal progressed quietly for a while, simple small talk about their parents and work flowing freely. With the plates cleared and placed in the dishwasher, Alice brought out a chocolate cake, massive and layered, covered in goopy decadent frosting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This looks amazing, Mrs. Cooper,” Veronica complimented. “I truly missed your baked goods. I’m always excited when Betty is in town because I know treats are not far behind.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alice began to cut the cake, a bit more forcefully than needed, as she considered Veronica’s words. “Yes, it is lovely to have Betty home. How long would you say you’re here for, Betty?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty took a plate from her mother and passed it to Jughead. He stuffed a giant forkful in his mouth and planned on continuing to do so as he knew that they had been in the eye of the storm for the latter part of dinner and hurricane Alice was ready to start up the wind gusts again as she spewed disdain his way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not really sure, Mom,” Betty answered quickly. “I have through the holidays and working from home isn’t too bad.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alice nodded, unable to meet her daughter’s eyes. “And what about you, Jughead? Are you looking for work or living off my daughter as long as possible?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica’s fork dropped to her plate and Archie’s trembled in his fingers. Jughead just chewed, not dropping Alice’s gaze as he glared back at her. He was calculating the best response, one that would leave her unable to respond, but that would aggravate her to no end, but Betty halted all that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do this anymore! I just can’t! I didn’t come here so you could berate Jughead and try and embarrass him, Mom!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alice went to speak, but Betty shot a hand up at her. “I lost my job!” she blurted out. “I lost my job so that’s why I am spending time in Riverdale! I needed a break while I job hunt so you can stop offending Jughead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A snide grin spread across Alice’s lips as she folded her arms and examined her daughter. “I know,” Alice chastised.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And- wait. You- you know?” Betty stammered out. “Then why didn’t you… how..?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh please, Elizabeth,” Alice sighed with a roll of her eyes. “I’m a reporter and I know you don’t just get that kind of time off. So, I made a few calls and wasn’t I surprised to find that Alice Cooper’s daughter turned out to have no backbone when it came to journalistic integrity.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica and Archie exchanged worried glances as they watched Betty and Alice turning various shades of red, staring each other down. The two pushed back from the table, mumbling something about needing to visit Mary, and disappeared out the front door. Jughead sat still, stuck in the crossfire.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Integrity?” Betty scoffed. “That’s exactly the reason </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>I lost my job, mom. I was fired because I refused to destroy people over something that wasn’t newsworthy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Adulterers aren’t people Betty,” Alice yelled. “They need to be exposed for who they truly are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“People like Dad?” Betty seethed, dragging their own family history into things. “Just because Dad stepped out on you with Penelope Blossom doesn’t mean we need to splay the face of every philanderer across the headline!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alice shoved back from the table and stalked into the living room, Betty hot on her heels. “This isn’t about your father. I had already kicked him out when he engaged in such a relationship with that harlot. This is about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>ruining the family image.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I ruined it?” Betty laughed. “You are the one who drove Dad to do what he did. You were always obsessed with having the perfect image. It drove him away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>drove him away.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your father was a liar and a failure of a man, Elizabeth,” Alice spat. “It seems as if you’re following in his footsteps.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty opened her mouth to speak but then closed it just as suddenly. She shook her head as her jaw trembled, willing herself not to cry. Abruptly, she turned from her mother and grabbed her coat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Jug,” she stammered, handing him his jacket as well and heading out into the car.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ride home was quiet, Betty resting her head against the cold glass of the window. When they returned to the apartment, she headed into the bathroom, and moments later he heard the shower turn on. Jughead was very well versed in the unspoken language of Betty Cooper and this silence wasn’t a sign of anger. She was hurting, badly. And this, he wasn’t sure how to fix.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The water ran for a long while, much longer than normal. Did they even have that much hot water, he wondered? Tiptoeing to the bathroom door, he pressed his ear to the wood and from inside he heard a soft, muffled sniffling coming from inside. He hesitated for only a moment before pressing his way in to find Betty slumped in the corner in her fluffy robe, eyes blood-shot and red.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jug,” she gasped out, wiping furiously at her cheeks. “I’m fine. Honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re far from fine, Betts,” he replied softly. “They say when it rains, it pours. The storm has to be clearing soon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tenderness in his voice seized at her heart and Betty began to cry again. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jughead scooped her up off the bathroom floor and carried her to their room. She clung to him for a few moments, emptying her tears, comforted by the hand rubbing her back and the peaceful silence in the room. When her irregular breaths calmed, Jughead pulled back and sat her down on the bed, grabbing one of her sleep-shirts from her pajama drawer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Jug,” she sniffled, offering him a small smile. “Everything else is falling apart, but I can always count on you to remain the one good thing in my life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere, Betts,” he promised. “Except to get you a glass of water.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead darted to the kitchen and filled up a glass, only to return moments later to find her asleep on their bed. He untucked the covers and maneuvered Betty underneath, pulling them back up to her chin, before turning off the bedroom light. Sparing one more glance backward, he watched her breath rise and fall calmly and swore to himself that he would make sure Betty had the Christmas season she deserved, Alice Cooper be damned.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>December 10 </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get dressed,” Jughead grinned, bobbing up and down next to Betty as he sipped coffee at their countertop.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But my pajamas are warm and it’s like, twelve degrees outside. Why do I need to get dressed?” Betty groaned, taking another sip of the piping hot liquid. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had spent the entire day before filling out job applications, one after another, while Jughead worked on a freelance article he had picked up from the online blog he did occasional work for. She had silently vowed to remain in her pajamas today and watch Christmas movies while Jughead wrote, but he seemed to feel the need to toss a wrench in her plans. Pouting, she swung her legs over the side of the stool and stood up, taking her coffee cup with her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” she drawled. “But only because it’s you who asked.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead smiled and poured himself a cup as well. “Dress warm!” he called out. “It’s really fucking cold out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty mumbled to herself as she shut the bedroom door and changed into jeans and an oversized sweater before re-emerging a few minutes later so find him expectantly waiting, their coffee placed in to-go thermoses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” she said, taking the cup from him gratefully. “Now tell me, why am I wearing real pants?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> skip pants,” Jughead offered with a shrug. “Your extremities might freeze, but you have nice legs, so…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jughead Jones!” Betty exclaimed, laughing as she swatted at him. “Since when have you become a leg man? I always took you for a boob kind of guy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Equal opportunities and all,” he teased, putting on his coat. “You ready?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Betty said softly, still grinning from their banter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead just tossed her another lopsided smile and picked up the keys to the truck. “Trust me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Always,” Betty repeatedly, quickly and softly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then get those pant-covered legs into the truck!” Jughead urged, pushing her out the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He started the truck and cranked up the heat, the antiquated system in FP’s old truck taking a long while to begin to warm up the frigid air in the cab.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Jughead shrugged. “I should have come down and warmed it up earlier.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Jug,” Betty said, waving him off. “I can handle a little cold. I won’t break. But, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can </span>
  </em>
  <span>tell me where we are going.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pretended to contemplate telling her for a moment, tilting his head back and forth while humming as if he were mulling it over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got up this morning and walked four blocks to the tree lot behind Thai Tanic. I wanted to surprise you and have you wake up to a tree,” he admitted, blushing a bit as he spoke under her soft gaze. “But the trees were a hundred bucks and I figured that was not a wise use of savings.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Juggie,” Betty cooed. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done or tried to do. Just the fact that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do that for me, on top of </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> else you’ve done recently, is enough to warm my sad, cold heart.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your heart is anything but cold, Betty,” Jughead said, a bit self-consciously, glancing out the front window and not daring to look at her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Biting at her lip, Betty slid across the bench seat and pressed a kiss against his cheek, her hot breath a stark contrast to the freezing cold air in the car. Jughead awkwardly mumbled something about breath temperature and body heat, Betty smiled at him but didn’t move from his side. Pulling away from the curb, Jughead cleared his throat and shared his plans, needing a distraction.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, the ridiculous price of trees made me angry this morning. It took me back to my whiny days of youth here in Riverdale where I pointed out every injustice the town had to offer. I thought, ‘what would Serpent Jughead do?’ and it came to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Betty smiled into his shoulder. “What came to you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jughead pulled over, off-roaring into a clearing in Fox Forest before killing the engine and reaching into the back seat where he had an axe and some rope. “Feel like committing a felony with me, Cooper?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows and staring her down in a dare.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t be our first together, Jug. Or second… or third,” she added, grimacing at how many laws they had broken together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Was I your first… I mean, the first time you broke a law?” he asked with a grin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were,” Betty teased back, still pressed into his side. “All my firsts were with you Juggie… breaking and entering, drag racing, grand theft auto…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s quite a list. I can think of a few more to add,” he said, voice a bit squeaky due to her proximity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go add deforestation to the list,” Betty grinned, taking the axe from his lap. “I planted enough of these as a Girl Scout. I think we deserve to take one back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An hour later they were still chopping away at the tree trunk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he panted, leaning against the axe for a moment as Betty laughed from his side, also tired from the swings she had taken as well. “This looks so much easier on TV. How did our ancestors survive? Apparently, I have terrible stamina.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Betty said teasingly, raising an eyebrow. “Your stamina has been pretty impressive to me, Jug.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted to provide her with a witty comeback, but an awkward, quick, overzealous chuckle that he tried to swallow and repress was all he got out, causing her to giggle more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your lips are a little blue and your nose could rival Rudolph’s, Betts.” He pointed out instead when her laughter had subsided. “Think we are through enough on both sides to try and push it down?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Only one way to find out, Juggie,” Betty shrugged, hopping over to the side of the tree in excitement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They wrapped their arms around the trunk and braced their shoulders against the bark, digging their heels into the snow that had freshly coated the ground the previous day and began to push as hard as they could. Teeth gritting and yelling out from the strenuous force which they were exerting, the tree didn’t budge, but they did. Jughead’s foot slipped and as he grabbed for the tree, he unconsciously gripped Betty’s jacket as well, pulling her down to the ground directly on top of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Groaning, he opened his eyes to find a giggling Betty only millimeters away from him, the top of her nose brushing his own. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for breaking my fall, Jug,” she chuckled, rubbing her cold nose against his for a moment before flipping onto her side next to him, grabbing his hand to keep them connected. “Maybe we should get poster board and just draw a tree. It would be warmer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Betty Cooper,” Jughead cried. “I spent the better part of an hour chopping away at that thing and you want to craft a tree from a broken up, pulped, watered-down dead one? Oh no, we are finishing the job and taking that thing home.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A sudden crack drew their eyes upward as the tree began to rock and sway, finally giving way from the piece of the trunk attached to the roots in the ground. Without thinking Jughead rolled over and covered Betty’s body with his own, closing his eyes and bracing for an impact that never came. A light thump and a whoosh had them both looking over his shoulder to see the tree had fallen the other way. Releasing a worried breath, Jughead slumped over her, grateful their adventure hadn’t resulted in death or maiming.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My hero,” Betty simpered, tugging on his ear that was sticking out of his hat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am?” He teased back. “If that thing fell I was hoping to use you as a cushion between me and the hard, cold ground.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betty glared at him as he laughed, before yelling out a girly scream as Betty gripped a pile of snow in her palm and stuffed it down the back of his coat. Pulling herself up at his startle, they engaged in a full-on battle, pummeling each other with snowball after snowball until they were both soaked and frozen to the bone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Truce,” Betty called, crying as she belly-laughed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Truce,” he agreed, eyeing the tree on the ground before them. “Is this going to fit in our place?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do we even have a tree stand?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After another fit of giggles and twenty minutes of maneuvering, the tree was secure and on its way home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>.....</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t have a tree stand. Their tree currently stood, propped in the corner as they both cocked their head to the side and examined it. At least it fit up the stairwell and into the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m too cold to go back out,” Jughead chattered, unraveling his scarf and finally pulling off his gloves and hat as Betty did the same. “I’ll text Archie now. I bet he has some extra from when they ran the tree lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Betty silently nodded, removing her coat and hanging it on the rack, holding out her hand for his and doing the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should drink tea,” she stammered out, teeth still clacking from their cold foray into the woods and home in the old truck that wouldn’t warm up. “But I’m too cold to make it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clicking on the TV, Jughead laid back on the couch and pulled his old, thick flannel blanket on top of himself. “First, prevent hypothermia. Second, brew tea. Or cocoa. I vote cocoa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Betty watched Jughead’s body disappear under the blanket, only his face and fingers still visible as he held the old fabric to his chin, before looking over at their tree. She was a popsicle, but happy. Happier than she had been in a while. Without a second thought, Betty crossed the room and lifted the edge of his blanket, and slid herself in all the way to the back of the couch, and rested her head on his chest. She felt him stiffen below her before relaxing again as he brought up a hand to rest on her back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Body heat,” she offered weakly. “We’ll warm up faster this way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard that works best if you’re naked,” he teased, his voice muffled into the top of her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jug, if my clothes weren’t actually frosted to my body, I swear I’d be stripping. I’m so cold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He got quiet after that and so did she, listening to his heartbeat and her breathing, they both fell into a peaceful sleep. Archie showed up a while later, knocking on the door with no answer, letting  himself in with the spare they had given him and Ronnie for emergencies. He smiled at his entwined, sleeping friends, and left the tree stand on the kitchen counter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/192454274@N08/51016287221/in/dateposted-public/">
    
  </a>
</p><p>
  <b>December 13 </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There had been precisely zero calls regarding the jobs she’d applied for. Over the past few days, Jughead had watched Betty obsessively refresh her email feed and check for messages, finally tossing her phone behind the couch cushion before she blew out a breath and pushed her hair back from her face. She was wound-up like a top and he knew it was only a matter of time before she regressed into some of her old habits for dealing with failure and stress. He had to do something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tossing an empty milk carton in the garbage, he yelled to Betty that he was headed out for more liquid sustenance. Quickly, he ducked out and walked down to the nearest grocery store, scanning the baking aisle for his needs, before making his way to the store’s liquor department. While neither of them were heavy drinkers in the city, when they were around each other at home, they tended to drink more. Jughead liked to think that Betty felt safe being vulnerable and tipsy when she was with him rather than with strangers. For Jughead, he continually tried to keep his mouth full with either food or alcohol when they were out to stop himself from saying the stupid things that were floating around his head, like, ‘Marry me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead hit the self-checkout, preferring not to interact with ‘angry John’ the cashier or ‘creepy-eyed Sue’ who was bagging. She always looked at him like the kids in the candy aisle looked at a lollipop. Unnerved, as usual, he swiped his card and gathered the bags before heading home to Betty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That looks like a bit more than just milk, Jug,” Betty teased. “Did you find yourself in a conundrum again in the cereal aisle? What did you pick, the Captain Crunch or Fruity Pebbles?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead scoffed and offered a goofy “Hardee-har-har,” at her joke as he dumped the contents of the paper bag on the table, placing the plastic one down more carefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty slid off the couch and curiously examined his purchases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Frosting, gum drops, gummy bears, gummy worms, mints, licorice, chocolate-coated candies, and sprinkles,” Betty listed as she examined the counter. “Is this where you tell me you were born an elf but kicked out of the training program for being too tall and eating all the marshmallows?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You with the jokes today,” Jughead said, shaking his head and hoisting a gingerbread house kit up from the floor where he was hiding it. “And to think I braved the cold just for you so we could build a tiny abode for edible men.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the box plopped on the countertop, Betty’s eyes lit up and she pressed her hands together in excitement. “Jug! This looks so fun! What made you decide to do this? Usually you don’t play with your food, you just swallow it whole.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tossing her another unamused look, he poked her in the shoulder before grabbing the plastic bag he had brought home as well. “You said last week that gingerbread houses were a happy memory for you and you didn’t look happy today. I wanted to change that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty’s playful banter all but halted, her eyes flashing up at his intensely. He felt like a bug under a microscope, flushing warm as she examined him. He tried to remain as casual as possible, standing there awkwardly and swallowing as he looked back, offering a shy shrug after a while. It was then he noticed an unshed tear or two in her eye and he wondered if he had made things worse by having her relive her happy past.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If it’s too much we don’t have to,” Jughead gushed out quickly, scooping at the candy on the counter. “I didn’t mean to… I just thought…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty’s hand reached out and stilled his as she shook her head and stopped their motion. “This is perfect, Jug. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what I needed today. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His shoulders finally relaxed as he brandished a happy, boyish smile on his face before wiggling his eyebrows and opening the plastic bag he had been carrying as well, revealing a bottle of vanilla vodka, gingerbread syrup, and some coffee liqueur.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Also, a little remnant of </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>childhood to accompany yours, all the makings of a gingerbread cookie cocktail. Just add some half-and-half and brown sugar and voila, the perfect holiday treat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a bit nervous as to exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>this is one of your childhood traditions, but I have to say I’m very excited to partake in said activity,” Betty replied warily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead guffawed at her before grabbing some glasses and a pitcher from the cabinet and started to mix up a batch of the drinks. “Mom and Dad would have these. Mine was strictly the kid-version, made with vanilla syrup, whipped cream, ice cream, cinnamon, and nutmeg, with just a bit of actual coffee as well. Explains my addiction to caffeine at such a young age.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty leaned up against the counter, smiling as she watched him work. “No slacking, Cooper,” he tossed over his shoulder at her. “I have never assembled a tiny cookie house for tiny cookie people. You have to take charge here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty began to unpack the kit, laying the brown, spiced cookie pieces out on the counter as she watched him work. “Is this one of those situations where I do all the work, you eat candy, and then also destroy and eat the finished product? Because if it is, tell me now and we can just eat it before I spend hours making it look nice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hours?” He gasped. “It takes hours to make one of these? I thought you just slapped on some frosting and called it a day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jug,” Betty sniggered. “If you want to make something good, it takes time. No one likes a sloppy rush job. We need to take it slow and make it good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fat hool bis dor hemdoom, nop tishen,” he mumbled as he used his teeth to uncork the syrup bottle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you say?” Betty giggled, tearing open the candy bags and grabbing some bowls to place the pieces in as Jughead took the cork from his mouth and added syrup to his mix.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said, that rule is for the bedroom, not the kitchen,” he reiterated, more intelligibly this time and giving Betty cause to blush. His smug grin agitated her and Betty decided to fire back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh really?” she said softly. “And what if you’re not in the bedroom? Say you’re… on the kitchen counter. Does the same rule apply?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took him an extra moment to formulate a response as at that moment he was picturing Betty on the kitchen counter, apron-clad, with himself devouring her. “You plan on forking in the kitchen, Betts?” Jughead teased. “‘Cause omelette you in on something, it’s more dangerous than you think. You have to be wary of knives, glass, salmonella…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so odd, Jug,” Betty giggled, taking a glass from him as he poured his own drink. “But you’re mine and I’ll keep you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s me. I’m a weird-dough.” He grinned at her, holding up his glass to cheers her own. “To my first time making a gingerbread house. My God help you because I have limited patience when it comes to food preparation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amen,” Betty said simply, clinking his glass and sipping her drink.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour, and three gingerbread cookie cocktails later, they both stood, cock-eyed, staring at the slightly tilted structure they had built together. As they watched, the roof slid off of one side, falling onto the platter below. In a fit of giggles, Betty picked it up and put it back on, securing it with an unnecessarily large glob of icing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bet this is the ugliest gingerbread house you've ever made,” Jughead said, gesturing towards their mess. “I guess it goes with the theme of our current residence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty licked a bit of frosting from her fingers and smiled at him, her grin radiant and real. “I’ve lived in a ‘perfect’ house and made plenty of ‘perfect’ gingerbread houses, but this one, lopsided and messy, is my favorite.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead felt a warmth spreading through his chest at her words and felt the air between them crackle with electricity. Since they had moved in together things had felt different, charged. He wasn’t sure if it was the constant proximity or the fact that they were still sharing a bed, but he swore he had caught Betty looking at him, and not in a way you’d look at a friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He searched for the perfect words, but his writer’s block seemed to extend into his personal life as well as professional. “Betty, I…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty put down the piping bag and looked up at him expectantly. “You what, Jug?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. I want you. I need you. I’d die for you.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> All of these options rambled through his brain, but none were what came out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want a gummy bear,” he said flatly, mumbling a bit as he stared down at the counter. “Is it time to decorate?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty sighed at his response, but nodded nonetheless, putting the bowls of candy out in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty insisted they coat the entire roof with candies, alternating in different colors. Halfway through she realized they were out of green candies and began to search around the counter until she found the source of the problem red-handed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jughead!” Betty yelled. “Did you eat </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the green ones?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The green ones taste the best,” he shrugged as if it were common sense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How are we supposed to finish the roof without green candies?” Betty groaned. “The pattern will be all wrong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead considered her words and devised a solution. “How about I lick a few blue ones and we rub them on the yellow ones?” he offered, watching her jaw drop and laughing at her face. “Betts, imperfect house, remember?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty mumbled and grabbed her glass, downing the rest of what was inside. They were both pretty tipsy and the house was a reflection of that. Grabbing a handful of gummy bears, Jughead popped a green one in his mouth before tossing a handful of other-colored reject bears over the house at Betty. With his aim off, the bears pelted the roof and slid down, taking half the other candies with them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead looked up, nervously awaiting a scolding from his roommate, only to find her laughing hysterically, tears streaming down her cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oops?” Jughead squeaked out sheepishly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty picked up a handful of sprinkles and edible glitter she had taken from her own baking supply and blew it across the house, all over Jughead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oops,” she giggled. Mimicking his own words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a moment's pause before they both attacked, grabbing candy and flinging it around the kitchen, coating each other in sprinkles and gumdrops, and smearing frosting across each other’s faces. Just as Betty was poised to shove a handful of gummy worms down his back, Jughead spun and grabbed the discarded piping bag, squirting goopy frosting across her face, blasting out a hysterical laugh as it dripped off her forehead and cheekbones onto her neck and collarbone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In his haste to laugh in victory, he missed the mischievous twinkle in Betty’s eyes as she grabbed his ears and rubbed her face back and forth over his, smearing the frosting all over him as well. Jughead screamed and flailed, grabbing her waist to do what she assumed was to push her away, though he wound up pulling her closer, tickling her sides.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In her slightly inebriated state, she considered how close her lips would be to his own when she navigated her revenge maneuver. As her cheek rubbed against his, before moving to the other side, her lips lightly brushed against his own. Before her face made contact with his other cheek, a fire ignited between them at once. His laughter stopped and her motions faltered. Slowly and hesitantly, they both pulled back, mouths slightly ajar, their little puffs of breath mingling between them. Their eyes locked and for one transcendent moment, they both wondered if this electricity had been there all along, static clinging them together since the very beginning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither brave enough to make the first move, they both remained still, the pop rhythm of N’Sync breaking the mood as Betty’s phone chimed with her December ringtone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tearing her eyes away and exhaling heavily, she swiped to answer without really looking, Veronica’s face popping up on the screen along with Archie, Reggie, Kevin, Toni, Fangs, Cheryl, and Josie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell happened to you two?” Veronica said, cringing at her best friend’s appearance. “Did you try to diffuse a bomb in a cake shop a few seconds too late?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We made a gingerbread house,” Jughead slurred out, wiping some frosting and sprinkles from his face. “It didn’t end well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Veronica nodded, right-lipped and skeptical. “Did you two forget about the live Secret Santa draw?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We… did not,” Betty hiccuped, giggling as Jughead stifled a laugh behind his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice,” Archie laughed, recoiling at Veronica’s glare from his side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you no care for the integrity of this yearly tradition?” Veronica barked. “There are even new rules this year!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty stifled a giggle behind her hand before plastering on the most serious face she could. “You’re right. New rules. Continue.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Initiating a dramatic pause, Veronica left them all sitting silently for a minute before grinning and beginning her explanation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two new rules have been instituted to Secret Santa for our annual Friendsmas party this year,” she began. “One: The cost limit has been extended to fifty dollars. Our parameters are now no less than twenty-five, no more than fifty. Two: To spice up the party, this year we leave our gifts around the room, no name signed on the card. Everyone must try and figure out who bought the item based on the gift. Just an added element of fun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were mumblings of agreement from around the group chat and Veronica clapped her hands excitedly, ready to draw names. From her side, she tugged a wheel into view.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Each of our names are attached to this wheel and I’ve already listed the names in order in this notebook. I’ll live spin, removing a name each time it’s chosen, and attach it to the next name in the notebook. When all the names are matched, I’ll text you your giftee. Capeesh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know there’s an app for this, right?” Toni said, used to Veronica's flair for the dramatic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica pretended to contemplate that for a moment before shrugging. “My way is more fun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She spun and spun until each attendee was matched, promising to text them the instant the call ended. Within thirty seconds of disconnecting each other, their phones dinged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>VL:</b>
  <span> Betty, you got Toni. Lucky girl. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> fun to shop for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>VL:</b>
  <span> Jughead, you lucky bastard. You got dear, sweet Bettykins. Make it meaningful. Make it good. That’s not a request. It’s a demand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not wanting to break Veronica’s sacred rules, neither revealed who they received, opting instead to stare at their collapsing gingerbread creation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finish the drink pitcher and watch the Grinch?” Jughead suggested as the door slid off the house and cracked on the counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should clean up,” Betty frowned, grabbing the gingerbread man and woman she had stuck on the lawn before the total collapse of the roof could destroy them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow,” Jughead suggested. “When we’re sober. We can eat this ginger disaster for breakfast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another drink in, far beyond tipsy, and halfway through the Grinch, Jughead rested back against the arm of the couch as Betty squished up against him, her head partially in his lap with her legs tossed over the back of the couch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both were ignoring the film in favor of playing with the gingerbread boy and girl from their kitchen crafting earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty made the white frosting covered cookies dance along his arm as he sang.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, I want to live in a gingerbread house </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>with a candy cane fence to keep the gummy bears out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With a hot chocolate hot tub that steams year round </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and tiny sugar snow that covers all the ground…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Light up, the gumdrop lights on the M&amp;M cobblestones all through the night...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And all this powdered sugar snow... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Guess there’s nowhere to go... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you would squeeze me like a marshmallow </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and never ever ever, ever ever ever, ever ever let me go.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Jughead slurred, allowing his cookie to join hers in a dance. “Yours looks like a little bride gingerbread woman with the gobs of white frosting. Maybe the cookies should get married. Maybe we concocted a recipe for love tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty just hummed, half-asleep and brain-fogged from her buzz. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She can’t marry him, Juggie,” Betty said matter-of-factly as if her reasoning was perfectly obvious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead pouted. “Why not?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He has no face,” Betty sighed, dropping her cookie onto her lap. “When girls think of their wedding they don’t want to picture a faceless groom, Jug.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she spoke, Betty’s head fell heavier against his chest as her fingertips danced across his arm, content in the moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can make him a face,” he offered, sliding his cookie back down by her own. “What kind of face should I make? What do you picture?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty yawned and smacked her lips, dropping her cookie and curling into his side, drifting off to sleep as she mumbled out her tired confession. “I always picture you, Jug. S’always your face.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was asleep before he could respond or even think but he was now wide awake and instantly sober. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>chalk it up to their drinking, but he didn’t want to. For the first time in a while, he had hope that things between them were not as one-sided as he had thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead wanted to scoop her up and carry her to bed, but he was more afraid that he’d drop her tonight. Instead, he slunk down further into the cushions and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and over the top of them. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he whispered, “Night, Betts,” before placing their cookies on the coffee table and joining her in a deep slumber.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>December 19</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mall was beyond crowded and Jughead squished his arms in as he maneuvered through the crowds, attempting not to brush up against any other store patrons. Malls were a breeding ground for germs on a regular basis, but Christmas in a mall was like entering a hot zone. He and Archie had already been through each wing of the giant shopping center four times. Archie had found his Secret Santa gift on the first pass through but Jughead was still empty-handed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if we try Victoria’s Closet?” Archie suggested, hot, tired, and ready to be done. “Or maybe Jay Jewelers?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead stopped mid-step and glared over at his friend. They were passing the Santa display again and the sound of children crying as their parents forced them onto an old man’s lap pierced his ears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you know I don’t have Reg?” Jughead said sarcastically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s cut the crap, Jug. I know you have Betty,” Archie said curtly, rolling his eyes at his friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead gasped in mock shock. “Archibald! Does Veronica know you’ve broken the sacred code of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Secret </span>
  </em>
  <span>Santa?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Veronica knows. Why do you think you have Betty this year?” Archie asked as if it should be common sense, watching the realization dawn on Jughead’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>purposely </span>
  </em>
  <span>gave me Betty? What happened to the event having integrity? And </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> on earth would she give me Betty? I could get Reg a bottle of whiskey and he’d be thrilled. Betty deserves… thoughtful and meaningful. Betty is hard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly why we gave you Betty, Jug,” Archie explained. “The way you two have been lately, and with you living together, don’t you think it’s time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead tilted his head quizzically before cringing at a particularly loud scream from a toddler. Grabbing Archie by the jacket, he pulled him down a side corridor where only a coffee shop and a nail salon were stationed, the atmosphere a bit quieter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean it’s time? Time for what?” Jughead retorted, the aroma of the coffee beans not soothing him the way they normally were able.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Archie scrunched his shoulders up and tossed out his hands, eyes pleading with Jughead to just give it up and come clean. “Time for you...and Betty! Time for you to stop playing the ‘concerned friend’ and just admit you’re in love with her!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh!” Jughead blasted out at Archie, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace back and forth. “Even if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>in love with her it changes nothing, Arch! Betty is… I can’t lose her. It’s not like that for her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Archie shifted around on his feet, his frustration with Jughead mounting by the second. “Oh really? It’s not like that for Betty? Because we’ve been friends for longer than you two have been and we’ve never spooned up on my couch, all cuddly under a blanket. We don’t share a bed every night…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’d hope not,” Jughead quipped. “Veronica might get pretty mad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be serious, Jug,” Archie replied. “The two of you have always had something there, bubbling under the surface. We’re not kids anymore. It’s time to confront your truth. You can diffuse this with humor or anger, but you know I’m right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead swiped a hand angrily across his lip, foot tapping at the marbled floor in frustration as he looked up at Archie in consideration. He found nothing but a soft, concerned look etched onto Archie’s face, and rather than be a jerk, he let his shoulders sag and heaved out a sigh, nodding slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Yes. I am in love with Betty,” Jughead conceded, as Archie tipped his head back and looked up towards the ceiling, thanking every deity known to man. “But I’m not going to do anything about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jug…” Archie pleaded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She deserves more, Arch. More than our crappy apartment. More than I can give her. Plus, if you aren’t right… if she doesn’t feel the same, I just can’t take that chance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Archie opened his mouth to respond, but frowned instead, closing his lips as he searched his pockets for his car keys. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Jughead aske. It was clear Archie was angry with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Home,” Archie said coolly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I still haven’t found Betty a gift,” Jughead called out as Archie began to head toward the exit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just get her some socks. Or better yet, another book. Preferably one on ostriches so she can decipher you. You always seem to have your head in the sand… among other places.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Archie exited into the cold December air, Jughead huffed out a string of expletives, quickly apologizing to a woman nearby who pulled her child far away from him. Admittedly, he probably did seem a bit crazy at that moment, but any type of discussion about Betty and his feelings left him feeling like an incompetent moron.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Walking back into the heart of the crowd, Jughead glanced around at the shop names again, finding he was just adjacent to the bookstore and the jewellers. Glancing between both, he shook his head and cursed again, berating himself for being spineless when it came to romance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was being difficult, that he knew. He wasn’t sure exactly what he and Betty were, but they were more than best friends. Her confession the night of their gingerbread fiasco had widened his view. Betty pictured him when she thought of her future. But what did that mean? Was it because he was there? Because she trusted him? She hadn’t come right out and said she loved him. And then there was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>kiss. She hadn’t brought it up again, but neither had he. Was it the alcohol or did Betty genuinely want to kiss him, using the liquid courage as fuel?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a groan and a shove through the crowd, he headed into the book shop. At least they served espresso there. He needed a wake-me-up- and not the kind Archie had tried to push onto him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>….</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Flour was everywhere. It was on the floor, the counter, Betty’s apron, and her face. It seemed to coat every surface of the kitchen, minus a one-foot radius around Veronica, who seemed to repel mess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, Betty,” Veronica sighed. “This </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks </span>
  </em>
  <span>exhausting. How many cookies do you need to bake?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need enough to make cookie trays to deliver to a few people and for your party. I usually make twelve different varieties with my mom, but we still aren’t speaking. Alone, I think I can do at least eight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or,” Veronica countered. “You could just buy them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty shot her an awful look, jaw dropped and eyes aghast. “I bake with love. You can’t taste love when the cookies are store-bought. Then you just taste high-fructose corn syrup and xanthan gum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica pursed her lips and nodded. This was the perfect moment she had been waiting for to bring up what had been on her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And will Jughead be eating some of these… love cookies?” Veronica asked curiously, avoiding Betty’s gaze for the moment and instead eyeing her manicure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty furiously whisked some cocoa powder into the mixture she had stirring, blowing a tuft of hair from her eye that had flopped out of her ponytail, a bit of the brown powder puffing up with her huff of breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>live here and he does let </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>live here, rent free might I add. So yes, the least I can do is feed that black hole that is his appetite,” Betty answered, looking at Veronica like her question was a ridiculous waste of her breath. It seemed obvious that her roommate would benefit from her compulsive need to bake beautiful cookies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica groaned and straightened up on the stool, leaning over the counter to get Betty’s attention. “B, come one. You know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty chose to stare into the bowl she held, plopping in two egg yolks as she whisked more furiously, hoping to avoid having the conversation with Veronica that she was attempting to instigate. When Veronica all but knocked the whisk from her hands to get her attention, Betty sighed and put down the bowl, placing her hands on her hips and staring at her friend in frustration.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Say whatever it is you want to say, V, and then let me get back to baking. I have two more batters to make before Jug gets home and interferes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Betty,” Veronica droned sweetly. “I was simply wondering whether the cookies you make for say, me, and the cookies you make for Jughead have an equal amount of love in them?” Veronica asked as she fiddled with Betty’s set of measuring spoons. “I know you love me, but perhaps you love me a bit like granulated sugar and Jughead a bit more like powdered sugar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand the difference, V,” Betty said, annoyed. “I get what you’re hinting at, but you’re not making any sense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica shrugged and filled up a measuring cup with some confectioner’s sugar and the other with the regular, granulated kind. “Well, this cup of regular sugar is important in your batter,” Veronica explained. “It helps make your cookies sweet, just like me. I add some sweetness to your life. Don’t deny it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty raised an eyebrow but couldn't help but smile at her friend. Veronica was an overwhelming force in her existence, but one she simply adored. “Okay, V. I give. What is so different about the other sugar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica’s smile widened and her eyes sparkled. It was always a good sign when Betty was willing to play along. “Well, B,” she began. “The confectioner’s sugar is a bit more...fine. It goes into your recipe, but it also is what you can coat on top to make an already delicious cookie better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dropping some onto Betty’s apron, she continued. “It also sticks to you. It’s hard to get off. No matter how hard you swipe at it, that sugar seems to stay there. Once it touched that cookie they were bonded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both girls were quiet for a while as Veronica examined Betty’s face from under her lashes and Betty studied the countertop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jughead isn’t sugar and I’m not a cookie,” Betty muttered, finally addressing what Veronica had insinuated. “Things aren’t always an easy recipe, V. Some recipes are...complicated and some ingredients can’t be paired together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica noted how Betty’s eyes shifted off to the side. She knew that if she could only catch her gaze that Betty would crack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, B,” Veronica said softly. “I’ve never seen a more perfect recipe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At her words, Betty just happened to glance up quickly, but it was enough. Veronica gripped Betty’s hand and looked at her expectantly and that’s when she cracked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A recipe for disaster!” Betty cried out, yanking her hand away as she began pacing back and forth in the small kitchen. “We almost kissed, V. The other day right before you called for Secret Santa. We were drinking and having fun and...my lips brushed his. It was… it was… I wanted it to be more. To be real. But he didn’t bring it up again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica’s eyes widened like saucers. This was new information and very promising. “Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>say anything, B? I mean, maybe he’s just as nervous as you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty shook her head and grabbed the bowl she had put down and began whisking again, afraid her batter would spoil. Veronica stilled her voracious whisking for a moment. “You love him, Betty. He loves you. Why won’t you just let that play out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I can’t,” Betty snapped back. “Because I won’t. I won’t lose him if he doesn’t feel the same.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica’s phone dinged with a text from Archie, the angry emoji followed by the smiley face with its head exploding. It seemed he got about as far as she did with Jughead. Standing from the stool, Veronica straightened her skirt and grabbed her purse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Archie and I have dinner plans so I need to head out. But, B? Consider what I said. Sometimes a new recipe might seem difficult or intimidating, but once you try it, you’ll see it was exactly what was needed on the menu.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…..</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Jughead arrived home, the front door was propped open. He realized then Betty must still be baking. Their thermostat still wouldn’t budge so their only options were heat on or off. When it was on, it was like Florida in August. When it was off, it was basically the North Pole. He assumed that since the hallways blasted cold air from outside through the corridors that she had propped open the door to let out the heat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead found Betty in the kitchen, headphones in and singing along to Christmas songs as she rolled batter from her favorite green mixing bowl into little balls, dunking them in sugar before placing them on the baking sheet. She baked like an angel and sang like one too. Drifting back to their last kitchen adventure, he thought back to their barely-there kiss and the flirty banter she had slung his way. Maybe Archie was right. He was a coward. Betty could have moved into Veronica’s spare room with her own private bathroom and luxury sheets. Instead, she crammed into this hole-in-the-wall shoebox with him instead. Why?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stashing the book he had bought her under the sofa, he snuck up behind her, poking her in the side and laughing as she jumped, startled, gripping her chest by her heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jug,” Betty gasped, relieved to see it was him and not an intruder. “Don’t scare me like that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t leave the door open,” he retorted, a bit of a serious undertone to his words. “You never know who is going to walk in this place. We are on the Southside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty smiled teasingly and quirked a brow at him. “Well, you’re here. Can’t get much worse. Now out of my kitchen. You’ll ruin my system.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead grumbled, but obeyed her wishes, leaving the kitchen and snagging the book from where he stashed it to find a better hiding spot in his dresser. When he re-emerged from the bedroom with his laptop hoping to get some writing done, there was a plate with three cookies on the coffee table waiting for him. Betty didn’t turn around, but her headphones were no longer on and he knew she heard him come back in the room. Smiling at her back, he took a bite of a cookie and began to type.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Half-an-hour later, his cookies were long gone and the aroma of what Betty was baking was still wafting from the kitchen. Placing the computer on the seat beside him, Jughead snuck up beside her and grabbed the spoon from her bowl, licking off the batter just as she turned around to catch him red-handed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jug! Gross!” she laughed, more amused than mad though she pretended to be angry. “These cookies aren’t just for you. Don’t get your spit in my cookie dough!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>contaminate the dough, does that mean the cookies are all for me?” he asked hopefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smacking his shoulder and pushing him backward, Betty shoved him from the kitchen threshold. “Out!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead sighed and pretended to acquiesce, waiting until she had turned around before darting back in and grabbing her spoon again, grinning around the handle of the wooden spoon as Betty turned and stared at him incredulously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jughead Jones! Stop sneaking in here to eat the dough or I will smack you into next Sunday with this spoon!” Betty warned, holding up the spoon she was using to scoop the dough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My spoon is bigger,” he teased, holding up the wooden one he was eating the dough from. Lifting it to his lips, he ate another glob of the dough off the spoon, dragging out an exaggerated “Mmmmm” as he swallowed it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty’s nostrils flared and she lunged forward, grabbing the spoon from him quickly, the sticky chocolate dough smearing its way all over her hands and wrists in the process. Frowning, Betty swiped at the dough, grumbling as it just coated more of her hands as she moved it around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead was enthralled by every swish of her fingers and flick of her wrist. He was even more sure he wasn’t reading things wrong after his talk with Archie and decided to be brave and step out of his comfort zone. He would never go all in, too nervous to topple the tower in the long game they were playing in case he lost. She had to be the one to give him a sign that this wasn’t in fact a one-sided thing, that she also wanted him. He wouldn’t destroy their friendship unless he was sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking her hand delicately in his, he found her eyes and he lifted her hand to his lips, closing them over the surface of her skin and sucking some of the batter off, letting the corner of his lip turn up at her slight intake of breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tastes better than when I licked it off the spoon,” Jughead said, his voice gruff and low as Betty stood, unable to reply as her heart pounded out of her chest, the skin of her hand was tingling where his lips had been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty made no motion to move or speak as Jughead held her gaze. He waited a few more moments, studying her face. He knew her well enough to see the confusion behind her eyes and the doubt that clouded her face as well. His smirk unconsciously dropped into a frown and he dropped her hand, taking a step back. Just as he moved to turn around, Betty grabbed him by the neck of the maroon thermal shirt he wore, tugging him back around. Stepping in close, she opened her mouth a few times to speak, closing it just as quickly as her brain rushed to think of exactly what to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you but you’re too good for me. I love you, but I know you don’t feel the same way. I love you, but I know we’re just friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’ Betty couldn’t decide which was best. Her brain was telling her to choose one fast while her body was yelling, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kiss him, you idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span>!’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Juggie,” Betty managed to breath out softly, her lip trembling a bit as she spoke while he looked down at her expectantly, a hand cupping her elbow lightly as she rested her hand on his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Elizabeth?” Alice’s voice cut through the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty and Jughead jumped back, staring at the presence that had taken up space across the kitchen island. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom,” Betty said nervously. “What… what are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about I ask the questions now?” Alice asked, coldly. “Starting with, why is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> couch in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> living room if you’re just taking some time away from the city?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty tried to speak, but Alice cut her off again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe, why is it that what is apparently </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> front door is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wide </span>
  </em>
  <span>open on the south side of town? Do you not know the things that go on down here in this… depraved community?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom, I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or how about this one for you, Elizabeth? Why did you lie to me when you are clearly jobless and living here, and from what I just witnessed, doing God-knows-what else, with this derelict?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom, if you would just listen-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t let you throw your life away for the likes of him! Look what he’s done, Betty! He convinced you to leave the city rather than look for a job. He brought you back here, to the Southside, isolated from everything good in your life! He’s taking advantage of your naivety!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty’s fists curled in on her palms as she squeezed her hands tightly. She was a popcorn canister on the stove and she was just about ready to blow. Stomping around the kitchen island, Betty stood face-to-face with her mother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This!” Betty yelled, red-faced and seething. “This is why I didn’t tell you! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> listen!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to listen, Elizabeth. I have eyes. I can see the squalor this boy has dragged you into!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty held out a fist, thrust up in the air like a punch as she ground her teeth against each other and not her tongue. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself, knowing an outburst would only make the situation worse. It was working until Alice continued her tirade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen enough. Get your things. You’re coming home with me and you’ll work for </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Register,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Alice said quickly, beginning to scour the room and grab at belongings she could tell belonged to her daughter. “And you,” she continued, pointing at Jughead. “I know you mean well, but you can’t relegate my daughter to this lifestyle.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s enough!” Betty growled out, glaring at her mother. “I know you hate a Jughead’s father. I know you hate the Southside. But you don’t get to treat him that way. Did you know that his book was published? Did you know that while he is freelancing he’s writing another one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And while you have been judging him and he’s been silently taking it, he’s also been supporting us! He found us this place, not because he couldn’t afford more, but because until I find a job he’s covering rent for </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of us! He does everything he can to make me happy, Mom. He does it just because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> cares about how I’m feeling!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice huffed out a curt laugh and folded her arms. “I’m sure he is getting something in return,” Alice suggested, raising an eyebrow. “You speak of him like you’re in love with him. Now, come with me. I can’t have you besmirching the Cooper name here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m staying with Jughead, Mom! That’s final!” Betty spat back, her expression firm and stance unmoving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice leered at her daughter before flicking her hair over her shoulder and straightening the collar on her coat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you choose this boy, Elizabeth, don’t bother coming home for Christmas. You’ll have made your grave, so you may as well lie in it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty swallowed roughly, working hard to control the tears that threatened to fall. She wouldn’t let Alice see her cry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have a nice Christmas, Mom,” Betty whispered out, unable to control a few errant tears that cascaded down her cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alice glowered at Betty before flaring over her shoulder at Jughead. “Enjoy your life in squalor,” Alice snarked, grabbing her purse and securing the strap on her shoulder before storming back out the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was silent as Betty slowly looked over her shoulder to find Jughead watching her, dumbfounded. The second she saw his soft look of concern, her resolve crumbled. Her face scrunched up and the tears poured out. With his long, lanky limbs, Jughead was around the counter and grabbing her in seconds, pulling her tight against his chest and promising everything would work itself out, though he wasn’t honestly so sure of things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When her tremors had slowed, Betty looked up at him, putting on a stoic face. “I’m better off anyway,” she shrugged. “Who just disowns their daughter for no good reason? Maybe I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> an awful daughter for lying, but still.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, Betty,” Jughead gushed out, pulling back and holding her at arm’s length as he spoke, his hands on her shoulders. “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>far from being awful. It’s a complete travesty that you would even be led to think you aren’t amazing. Your mother is sick and has a warped way of thinking. You did nothing to deserve any of this. You’re a good person. What do you say I make some popcorn and we watch </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christmas Vacation</span>
  </em>
  <span>? That will cheer you up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty forced a smile and rubbed at his cheek, exhausted from the baking and her mother. “Thank you, Jug, but I think I just need to lay down for a while.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dropping her arms, Betty turned and headed towards their bedroom, the unused cookie dough left unbaked on the counter. She curled up in a ball on the bed, but couldn’t sleep. Despite leaving him, she wanted nothing more than to curl up on her roommate at the moment but was not ready to deal with the emotional ramifications of that. They had been toeing the line lately between friendship and more. Picking up her phone, she hit speed dial two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“V,” Betty sniffled, holding back a sob. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Betty,” Veronica said, voice laced with worry. “Are you alright? What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty shook her head, though Veronica couldn’t see the gesture. She was too far gone in her panic. “I just… everything is changing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She could hear heels clacking through the phone alerting her that Veronica was walking through her apartment, no doubt to go and find Archie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Archie and I are only a few blocks away, B. We can call Jughead and come over-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Betty shouted. “Don’t call him. He’s home, he’s here. It was Alice. She always has to ruin everything. She’s like a poisoned apple on the tree that’s my life. She just showed up and disowned me and she said, out loud, in front of Jug, that I was in love with him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica sat down carefully on the couch beside Archie and leaned against his side, the call now on speaker, as he began texting away on his phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that Arch texting Jug?” Betty asked, swiping at her eye. “I can hear the clacking of the letters.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Archie chuckled a sympathetic look and a soft smile on his face though Betty couldn’t see him. “It’s Jug. He’s a little worried about you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t see him right now,” Betty gushed out quickly, shaking her head erratically. “I can’t. My mother was trashing him nonstop and she just said it, like she was saying we needed to buy milk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica frowned and leaned forward a bit, glancing over at Betty. “What did you say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said nothing. I didn’t deny it,” Betty whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica thrust her hands up in triumph before clapping slightly, smiling over at her friend. “Betty! This is a good thing! Isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, V. It’s not. He doesn’t love me like that,” Betty cried out, shaking her head as Veronica wrinkled up her face in confusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>say that?” she asked curiously. “Why don’t you just let him come in and you two can talk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Betty gushed out, wide-eyed and wild. “No, please. I’m not ready to do this yet. I need some time. Time to think.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty pressed her hands together and slotted them between her knees, anxiously rocking on the bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you just lay down, Betty? Take a nap and clear your head,” Veronica suggested. “When you wake up this will have all passed and you’ll feel more normal again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Betty muttered softly. “Okay. I’ll text you later. Thanks, guys.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hanging up the phone, Betty curled up on her side and hugged a Jughead’s pillow to her chest, drifting into a deep sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the other room, Jughead’s phone rang.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finally!” he said, a bit annoyed. “I thought you were going to keep me waiting all afternoon. You didn’t even answer my last three texts!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ronnie had Betty on speakerphone,” Archie explained. “I heard what Alice said. But she’s convinced that you can’t feel the same. Truthfully I think she does know. I think she’s just afraid of the change like you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead sighed and closed his eyes, gripping the phone tighter. “Yeah, well you missed the part where I licked frosting off her hand and we almost kissed. That’s how Alice found us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Archie yelled into the phone, causing Jughead to jerk it back from his ear. “I did miss that part. And that’s a pretty big deal! She must be super consumed right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead sighed and rubbed at his forehead, already feeling a headache coming on. “So what do you suggest? Forget it ever happened? Try and erase the day?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Archie shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know, Bro. Just let her calm down and talk herself through this. She’s been through a lot this month. Maybe think of a gesture… something to make her feel good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think of a gesture…” Jughead repeated, as if it was the dumbest thing Archie had ever suggested. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? Think of a…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His voice trailed off and his eyes traced a path from the floor where he stared in thought for a moment up to the empty top of their Christmas tree. “Hey Arch? You wanna go antiquing tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>December 21 </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been two days since the incident with Alice and Betty had been a zombie since the incident with her mother. As Veronica had suggested, after her mother had left she had taken the longest nap of her adult life and woke up feeling even worse for wear. Her head still pounded and she was somehow still exhausted. The smell of popcorn had pulled her from slumber and when she peeked into the living room, she’d found Jughead on the couch, bowl in hand and a movie queued up as though he’d been waiting for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I ordered Chinese when I heard you stirring,” he had explained. “I figured you’d be hungry. The popcorn can hold us over until it comes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty had stood unmoving in the entryway unsure of what to do or say, until he’d lifted an arm and the corner of the old, flannel blanket, signaling for her to join him. Her heart eased a bit then, knowing he wouldn’t push her to talk about things that night. Betty crossed the room and settled into his side, the night spent together in quiet comfort.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was two days ago, and now their annual Friendsmas party was an hour away. Betty always looked forward to this annual party. With their friends scattered all over, it was the one guaranteed time a year they were all able to be together. Veronica’s place always looked like a festive scene right out of a catalogue and it made Betty feel extra merry. She also never minded the excuse to dress up a little bit, especially now that her daily uniform consisted of yoga pants and t-shirts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead had taken his clothes to the bathroom to change, claiming he didn’t need as much time to primp as she did due to his natural aura of allure. She was grateful he gave her space. The constant way he had checked on her, coupled with their two almost-kiss interactions had her a bit on edge. Looking in the full-length mirror, Betty tugged at the bottom of her green dress and tucked some hair behind her ear. Satisfied with her appearance, she added one more swipe of pink lipgloss before tossing the tube into her bag and heading out to gather the cookie platters she had packed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead was up against the counter, packing the plates into a large, reusable bag to make them easier to carry. With his suspenders on correctly and his dark blue dress shirt, sleeves-rolled-up, Betty couldn’t decide what looked more delicious, the cookies or her roommate. Shaking off the thought, she cleared her throat to alert him of her presence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned to face her, taking in her outfit from head-to-toe. Betty smiled and blushed a bit under his gaze. “You looked nice all cleaned up, Jug,” Betty offered, hoping that the awkwardness Alice had brought about had subsided enough to say that. He hadn’t mentioned anything so Betty could only assume this was his graceful way of saving her dignity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I try, once or twice a year,” he grinned. “You look beautiful, Betts. I like when you wear green. It makes your eyes glow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty didn’t know how to respond so instead she rocked back-and-forth on her heels and grabbed the bag she had placed on the table. “Can’t forget my Secret Santa. Do you have yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s at Ronnie’s,” Jughead explained, turning back to the counter and grabbing the bags with the baked goods. “I went shopping with Archie so he just took it right there for me. Ready to head out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yes,” Betty agreed. “Veronica hates it when we aren’t on time. She hates it even more when Cheryl’s early and I’m not there to serve as a buffer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do we let her come?” Jughead asked wryly as they headed out the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Toni,” Betty shrugged. “Can’t help who you love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jughead said, muffled under his breath as he turned to lock the door. “No, you can’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…..</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Way to be on time,” Veronica snapped, pulling Betty into her apartment roughly by her elbow. “I already had to listen to Cheryl criticize the shade of red my decorator used for the table linens this year.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The horror!” Jughead gasped, gripping at his heart, earning a laugh from Betty and a glare from Veronica.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica took their jackets and hung them on the coat rack before sending Jughead into the kitchen with Betty’s cookies. “Give me your Secret Santa gift, B, and I’ll go stash it in the sitting room. No one gets to search for their gift until after cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>go keep Cheryl busy before she starts judging the thread count of my napkins.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty handed over Toni’s gift and made her way into the living room. Toni, Cheryl, and Reggie were already sipping candy cane martinis and Kevin and Fangs were mixing up some type of concoction at the bar. It seemed though they were just two minutes late. The only person they had beat there was Josie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cooper!” Reggie grinned, clapping as she walked into the room. “Looking gorgeous as always. Where is that somber creature you live with? Finally decide to leave him on Mount Doom and join the rest of us for a Festivus?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty rolled her eyes. Jughead and Reggie may have actually been at each other’s throats in high school at times, but now their jabs back and forth came from a place of friendship, whether Betty understood that or not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It burns us!” Jughead cried as he approached the group, having heard Reggie’s jab. He settled his arm over Betty’s shoulders and turned to Reggie. “You can’t even be nice on Christmas? Just for one night? Maybe your heart will grow three sizes if you try really hard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t all these holiday lights burn your retinas as you crawl out from the dark hole you reside in?” Reggie jabbed back, laughing at his own quip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty squished herself into Jughead’s side and flashed him a smile before addressing Reggie’s comments. “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody. That’s deceit. Jug shows off his truths in complete transparency.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mark Twain?” Jughead asked, grinning. “That’s the quote about darkness you go with?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty shrugged as the two forgot the rest of the group and fell into their own banter. “I was going to go with Shelley, but then I thought ‘too dark for the holidays.’”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s always Plato,” Jughead suggested. “He’s all about men showing their light.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure how to take that last one honestly,” Betty teased as Reggie, Cheryl and Toni watched them, amused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reggie just shook his head as Jughead looked down on Betty adoringly, knowing Reggie wouldn’t taunt her for defending him. “I’m not sure what he did to earn your complete adoration Cooper, but you’re a lucky guy, Jones. You two are truly the same brand of weird, just Betty comes in a nicer package.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of packages,” Cheryl said quickly. “I can’t wait for Secret Santa this year. I may have finally found the perfect gift for Archie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cher,” Toni scolded. “You aren’t supposed to tell anyone who you have! That breaks the rules!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cheryl stuck out her hip and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Jones already broke the rules this year anyway!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead’s eyes widened and he suddenly became very interested in the food Veronica had out before dinner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Snack!” he blurted out suddenly. “I require sustenance. I’ll be back.” Darting over to the table, he made his escape before Betty could question what rule he broke exactly and why Cheryl and Toni seemed to know about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next hour passed quickly as Josie arrived and they all sat down in Veronica’s main living area to catch up on each other’s lives. With the hors’ d'oeuvres eaten, they settled back with cocktails as they chatted. Betty had been glancing over at Jughead as he sipped his beer, slightly worried about his demeanor. He had been extra quiet, not even choosing to bait Cheryl when she brought up the sad lack of pure red candy canes in the Christmas economy. All night he had been jittery, bouncing his leg up and down and shooting her small smiles or awkward glances. She hoped it wasn’t something he ate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s time!” Veronica announced, drawing Betty from her thoughts. “The moment we have all been waiting for has arrived! It’s time for Secret Santa! Now remember, this year we changed it up to add some spice to the mix. Your gifts are scattered around the room and the tags are not signed. Find your gift with your name attached and then try and figure out who chose it! Questions?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Excited eyes met Veronica’s, but their lips were silent. With an excited clap, she rose from the armchair she was seated in. “Great! To the other room!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica, with Archie’s assistance, drew back the double doors to the den. The fireplace mantle was decorated with large garlands of green, red, and gold beads woven through along with sparking, bejeweled sprigs of holly. An eight-foot Christmas tree stood in the corner, decked out to match, and fake snow with tiny ceramic houses adorned every end table and windowsill. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having known each other for so long, none of them were shy. They raced into the room and began to scour each corner and crevice to find their gifts. Betty was the slowest since she took the time to examine each little snow village Veronica, or her decorator had displayed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Found it!” Cheryl cried out, excited to have been the first. Opening the red leopard paper she found the new lip kit from her favorite cosmetic chemist. “Holly berry red gloss, liner, and lipstick from Melandre Milana! This </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be from Josie!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are correct,” Josie grinned, offering Cheryl a hug. “I know my girl!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cheryl hugged her back squealing in excitement as Toni found her gift next.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Undertones?” Toni gasped. “And on vinyl! This is… this is beyond amazing! But who… I don’t remember telling anyone about this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With her back to Toni, Betty smiled. She wanted to turn around and witness her excitement but knew she would give herself away. She didn’t have to wait long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry to the rest of you, but this gift </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be from Betty. No one else is this deep or thoughtful,” Toni reasoned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty turned around, smiling wide, and nodded. “You mentioned how you and your Grandfather had bonded over this unlikely band and it had broken the ice to open up about things. I figured it was special so you should have a legitimate copy of the album.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Toni swiped at her eye, cursing Betty a bit for ruining her make-up, and pulled her into a hug. “You can be an intense pain in the ass at times, Cooper, but you’re an actual angel. This is beyond words. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Found mine!’ Kevin yelled, tearing open the Santa paper to find a bundle of merchandise from his favorite musical.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty had been so excited to see Toni open her gift she hadn’t even begun to search for her own. Weaving her way around the room she searched to no avail as Archie opened a guitar pick maker, Veronica found her spa robe and bath salts, Josie opened a portable thumb piano, Reggie got instant bottle chillers for his beer, a new pool stick for Fangs, and Jughead found an assortment of different flavored coffee beans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As everyone figured out their gifter and thanked them profusely, Betty still could not find a package with her name attached. She was uncomfortably aware that she was the last one left and hated the thought that they’d all watch her open her gift. Even so, she found it odder that no one was teasing or helping her until Veronica stepped up beside her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No luck yet?” Veronica smiled wickedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Help me?” Betty begged. “I feel like everyone is watching.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica glanced over her shoulder to find that Betty was correct. Though they staggered themselves around the room, they were all tossing glances her way. She shot them venomous looks and they all made themselves busy, Reggie suddenly very interested in the train set around the base of the tree, and Kevin and Fangs finding a sprig of mistletoe to keep them occupied. The only one not visible was Jughead who had backed himself up against a wall, one foot tilted back up and planted against the wallpaper as he nervously bit at his thumb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all knew about the gift. Veronica, so staunch in her secret Santa rules, had cleared the price breach with them, much to Jughead’s dismay. Everyone had been busting him privately all night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With everyone now distracted, Veronica turned back to her best friend and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Look up, B.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty glanced at Veronica curiously before letting her eyes trail up the branches of the Fraser Fir in front of her, following the strands of white twinkling lights to the top, and her breath caught in her throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A large, golden ribbon cascaded down the side of the tree with Betty scrawled onto the fabric, leading up to the very top of the conifer. On top of the branches was a golden, glowing angel. Betty’s antique angel. It was the same as the antique one at her mother’s house that had always reminded her of happy Christmases past. The same one she herself topped the tree with each year when her family was still whole.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty gasped and lifted her fingers to her lips as Veronica took a step back. Betty turned to her, eyes wide and soft. “I don’t understand. Who could possibly know about-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stopped herself mid-sentence and Veronica just grinned and nodded. She knew Betty had figured it out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s no way this fits the price limit, V. This is too much. Why- Why would he do this for me after everything else this year?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know the answer to that question already, B,” Veronica said softly. “Maybe it’s about time you voiced your own thoughts on the matter. Go get some sugar, girl.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty took another glance up at the angel and her heart swelled. Turning from the tree her eyes searched the room until she found him, up against the back wall, watching her from afar. Without a pause, Betty crossed the room, passing through Cheryl and Toni, an entwined Kevin and Fangs, and a grinning Archie, and stopped just in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jughead,” Betty breathed out. “That is… I don’t even… thank you. How did you even find it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead shrugged nervously, taking his foot down from the wall and stuffing his hands into his pockets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You, ah, you said it was made locally in New York so I accosted your mother and took a look myself. The stamp was from Binghamton so Arch and I took a ride out to the antique shops there and eleven stops in, we got lucky.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you did that for me,” Betty said softly. “It’s the most thoughtful…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it’s is ruining my reputation as a curmudgeon, but I just wanted you to have a good Christmas,” Jughead shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that all?” Betty asked, searching his eyes that were now studying hers intensely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead looked pained. She could tell he was teetering on the edge, unsure of why to say or do, afraid to cliff dive, so she made the choice for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jug,” Betty said hopefully. “I love it. I love it and... I love you. I love you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty’s words were all but swallowed as his hand slid around the back of her head into her hair and he dragged her lips to his own, ignoring the chants of “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a damn Christmas miracle</span>
  </em>
  <span>” from around the room. For just that moment, nothing else existed in his world and there was peace on earth. His lips slid against hers lightly and soft, a solid yet sweet first kiss, before pulling back to rest his forehead against hers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too,” he said, voice cracking a bit as he pulled her lips back to his own for a few quick kisses before remembering they had an audience.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They smiled goofy grins against each other and then Betty leaned in to whisper softly. “Hey, Juggie? Vamoose Caboose?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead winked and in a moment flat, he turned and headed for the tree, climbing quickly onto a nearby chair to grab the angel from the tree. As soon as his feet touched the floor, Betty took the angel and stashed it under one arm before she hopped on his back, Jughead hooking his hands under her knees and making for the door as fast as he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me!” Veronica called after them. “Just where do you think you are going? No one leaves a Lodge party early!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, V!” Betty giggled. “I’ll call you tomorrow! I think we have some mistletoe at home that needs tending to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Veronica contemplated her words before nodding appreciatively. “I’ll allow it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hightailing it down the hall, Jughead dropped Betty to the floor as they grabbed their coats and ducked out of the apartment, making their way back home as quickly as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the high of the moment waning, they entered their apartment quietly, almost shyly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they hung their coats, Betty flushed as he took her scarf for her, unwrapping it carefully before hanging it up beside his own before grabbing the angel she had carried home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“e skipped out on dessert. You didn’t get any cookies,” Betty said as she moved towards the kitchen. “I’ll fix a plate with a good assortment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead nodded and looked toward the tree, heading into the living room to wait for Betty.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead placed the angel on the table just as Betty padded out of the kitchen, placing the plate of cookies down to snack on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing, Jug?” she smiled curiously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” he said softly, waving her over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty swayed her way over to the tree, puzzled. When she reached his side, Jughead leaned past her to pick up the angel and handed it over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said your favorite tradition was putting the angel in the tree,” he explained. “Well, you’re up, Betts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty smiled radiantly, complete and utter appreciation in her eyes as he hoisted her up and she stuck the antique atop the tree, admiring the way the gold of the dress stood out against the green of the branches. The tree may not have been as magnificent as Veronica’s, but it was theirs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead lowered Betty to the ground and turned to look at her work, content that she was happy. He flipped himself onto the couch and Betty sat at his side, elbows brushing. Neither moved for a moment but instead swiveled their heads to look at each other, goofy grins spreading across their faces as they did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, you love me, huh?” Jughead teased to break the ice. “Even though I’m a… what did your mom call me? A no-good derelict?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you love me? Even though I’m an unemployed squatter on your property?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guess we are quite the match then,” Jughead replied, shifting himself to face her more fully, breath a bit more rough as he swallowed nervously. “Whatever shall we do about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty pretended to think, looking up towards the ceiling as she bit her lip before dropping her eyes back to his own. “I suppose we’ll have to keep each other,” she said, her smile from earlier returning as she inched closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I believe you mentioned mistletoe before,” Jughead whispered out, lips inches from her own now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was wrong. We only have holly,” Betty breathed out, bracing herself against his knee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jughead lifted an arm, running a hand through her loose waves. “Do we care?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Betty said as he closed the space between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kiss after kiss, their lips slid together, tugging and gliding in a slow seduction for what seemed like hours. Though neither could recall how, at some point, they wound up horizontal on the couch. Betty’s arms were wrapped around his neck as his thumbs stroked soft circles on the apples of her cheeks. From slow and deep to heated and fierce, they both expressed years of affection without a single confession, letting their kisses convey their feelings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At some point, one, or both, pulled back, letting their noses brush as they held each other close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I knew that all it would take was a day fighting off old women in antique shops for me to get to kiss you, I would have done it years ago,” he teased, poking at her ribs. “Seriously, an old woman whacked me with her bag when she thought I wanted the china tea set she was after.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All you ever had to do was ask, Juggie,” Betty chuckled. “You didn’t need to get assaulted by a senior citizen. I would have kissed you just because it was a Tuesday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I promise I’ll kiss you every Tuesday,” he teased, punctuating his words with a stamp of a kiss. “And Wednesday. And Thursday…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Betty giggled and nestled into his neck, happier than she could ever remember being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No more faceless gingerbread, Betts,” Jughead murmured into her hair, playing with the strands he could reach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Jug. Without you, I would crumble…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that won’t do. I’ll just have to work to </span>
  <em>
    <span>bake </span>
  </em>
  <span>your days better…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a lucky girl and so grateful to have such a tough cookie on my side…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How grateful are you? Wanna give me a little sugar?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Powdered sugar is definitely on the menu,” Betty smiled to herself, kissing him again. “This is no longer a sugar-free home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hallelujah,” he joked back, their banter, and kisses, lasting late into the night.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The song Jughead was singing is The Gingerbread House Song by Kyle Harrington if you’d like a listen!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song Betty is singing is The Greatest Gift by Leroy Sanchez if you want to check it out.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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